zr- 


THE  MODERN   DRAMA  SERIES 
EDITED   BY   EDWIN    BJORKMAN 


EDITH     ELLIS    •     MARY    JANE  S     PA 


MARY  JANE'S  PA 


A    PLAY    IN    THREE    ACTS    BY 

EDITH   ELLIS 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND    COMPANY 
1920 


Copyright,  1914, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 
INTRODUCTION  vii 

LIST  OF  PLAYS  BY  EDITH  ELLIS  xi 

MARY  JANE'S  PA  1 


INTRODUCTION 

SOME  seek  all  their  lives  to  become  writers ;  others 
have  the  task  of  writing  thrust  upon  them.  Of  the 
latter  class  is  the  author  of  "  Mary  Jane's  Pa,"  who  in 
her  professional  capacities,  as  actress,  producer,  and 
playwright,  prefers  to  be  known  by  her  maiden  name  of 
Edith  Ellis. 

Of  her  it  may  be  said  with  almost  literal  truth  that 
she  "  began  her  life  "  on  the  stage,  and  with  the  stage 
she  has  been  connected  in  one  way  or  another  through 
out  her  career.  Her  father,  Edward  C.  Ellis,  is  a 
playwright  and  actor.  Her  mother,  Ruth  McCarty 
Ellis,  was  an  actress.  Her  brother  is  Edward  Ellis, 
author  of  "  Any  Night  "  and  an  actor  of  high  standing. 

She  herself  played  her  first  part  at  six,  having  been 
born,  however,  not  on  the  stage,  but  at  Coldwater, 
Branch  County,  Michigan,  which  region  was  colonized 
and  built  up  by  her  ancestors.  At  ten  she  was  a  star, 
and  before  she  was  twelve,  two  plays  had  been  written 
especially  for  her.  Since  those  days  of  infantile  tri 
umphs  she  has  probably  had  a  more  varied  theatrical 
experience  than  any  other  woman  connected  with  the 
American  stage  to-day.  She  has,  as  far  as  I  can  make 
out,  at  one  time  or  another,  performed  every  duty 
required  for  a  dramatic  production,  from  painting  the 
scenery  to  writing  the  play.  During  several  periods 
she  has  been  at  the  head  of  her  own  stock  companies, 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

travelling  or  stationary,  and  more  than  once  she  has 
written  the  play,  produced  it,  directed  the  rehearsals, 
and  played  the  star  part  herself.  And  perhaps  this 
is  one  of  the  main  reasons  why  she  is  so  violently 
opposed  to  the  combination  of  such  conflicting  parts  as 
those  of  actor,  director,  and  manager. 

Her  first  ventures  as  a  dramatist  were  accidental  or 
forced  upon  her.  The  first  thing  she  ever  did  in  this 
line  was  a  volume  of  dialogues  from  Dickens  prepared 
for  amateur  performances.  It  met  with  great  success, 
but  although  she  was  only  seventeen  at  the  time,  she 
was  not  tempted  into  thinking  herself  a  writer.  When, 
more  than  ten  years  later,  she  took  to  the  pen  again, 
it  was  to  meet  an  acute  situation:  her  husband's  com 
pany  was  threatened  with  ruin  by  a  play  that  had 
proved  a  dismal  failure.  To  save  the  day  she  wrote 
"  A  Batch  of  Blunders,"  a  musical  comedy  in  three  acts, 
and  rehearsed  it  in  three  weeks,  while  the  company 
went  on  filling  its  dates  with  the  original  bill.  The  old 
play  closed  one  night  and  the  new  one  opened  the  next 
—  and  the  day  was  saved. 

The  first  work  that  brought  her  conspicuously  before 
the  public  as  a  playwright  was  her  three-act  farce, 
"Mrs.  B.  O'Shaughnessy  (Wash  Lady),"  in  which 
George  W.  Munroe  starred  three  seasons.  In  1904  she 
produced  a  four-act  domestic  drama,  "  The  Point  of 
View,"  representing  for  the  first  time  a  push  from 
within  rather  than  a  pull  from  without.  She  had  the 
temerity  to  produce  it  at  the  Berkeley  Lyceum,  New 
York,  under  her  own  management  and  with  herself  in 
the  principal  female  part.  In  those  days  the  reign  of 
the  "  syndicate "  was  still  unchallenged,  and  as  the 
Berkeley  Lyceum  was  not  controlled  by  any  member 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

of  that  group,  the  play  was  doomed  from  the  first. 
Since  then  the  play  in  question  has  been  completely 
rewritten  under  the  name  of  "  Man  and  his  Mate." 

"  Mary  Jane's  Pa  "  was  begun  in  1905  and  finished 
a  year  later.  In  1908  it  was  produced  for  the  first 
time  by  Henry  W.  Savage  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New 
York,  with  Henry  E.  Dixey  as  Hiram  Perkins.  Later 
Max  Figman  starred  two  seasons  in  the  same  part. 
From  the  first  this  play  was  a  success,  and  every  year 
it  is  being  revived  by  stock  companies  in  different  parts 
of  the  country. 

There  are  several  reasons  for  this  popularity.  One 
is  the  strikingly  American  atmosphere  pervading  the 
work.  Very  few  plays  equal  its  faithful  portrayal  of 
life  in  a  small  American  community.  Another  explana 
tion  of  its  powerful  appeal  lies  in  the  character  of 
Hiram  Perkins  —  a  character  that  is  thoroughly  char 
acteristic  of  the  author's  way  of  looking  at  life  and  at 
human  beings.  She  has  humor  of  the  most  exquisite 
kind.  She  has  that  strength  of  soul,  that  faith  in 
life,  which  enables  her  to  regard  human  foibles  and 
faults  with  a  smile.  Hiram  is  a  scamp  in  many  ways, 
but  he  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  scamps  created  by 
means  of  the  English  tongue  since  the  days  of  the 
immortal  Falstaff.  Without  carrying  the  comparison 
too  far,  one  might  well  speak  of  him  as  an  American 
Peer  Gynt.  That  he  "  reforms  "  in  the  end  is  not  ex 
pressive  of  the  author's  desire  of  a  happy  ending,  but 
of  her  wish  to  emphasize  the  fact  that,  when  opposed 
qualities  enter  into  a  character,  it  depends  largely  on 
external  circumstances  whether  the  good  or  the  bad 
ones  shall  be  brought  to  the  front.  The  thesis  of  the 
play  might  be  sought  in  her  conviction  that  the  quali- 


INTRODUCTION 


ties  which  made  a  scamp  of  Hiram  at  Medairyville,  In 
diana,  might  in  all  likelihood  have  made  him  a  highly 
successful  citizen,  husband  and  father  in  New  York 
City. 

Among  Edith  Ellis'  manifold  activities  in  the  dra 
matic  field  during  recent  years  may  be  mentioned  a 
dramatization  of  Tolstoy's  "  Anna  Karenina  "  and  an 
adaptation  of  Ferencz  Herczegh's  "  Seven  Sisters  " ; 
the  production  of  a  musical  comedy,  "  The  Charity 
Game,"  and  the  libretto  of  an  operetta,  "  The  Love 
Wager,"  in  which  Fritzi  Scheff  has  been  starring ;  the 
dramatization  of  E.  P.  Roe's  "  He  Fell  in  Love  with 
his  Wife  "  and  of  Henry  Russell  Miller's  "  The  Man 
Higher  Up " ;  the  writing  of  a  four-act  Canadian 
drama,  "  Vespers,"  a  three-act  American  sociological 
play,  "  Fields  of  Flax,"  and  a  three-act  light  opera, 
"  The  Amethyst  Ring." 


CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  PLAYS 
BY  EDITH  ELLIS 

A  BATCH  OF  BLUNDERS,  1897; 

MRS.  B.  O'SHAUGHNESSY  (Wash  Lady),  1900; 

BECAUSE  I  LOVE  You,  1903 ; 

THE  POINT  OF  VIEW,  1904; 

THE  WRONG  MAN,  1905; 

CONTRARY  MARY,  1905; 

BEN  OF  BROKEN  Bow,  1905; 

MARY  JANE'S  PA,  1906 ; 

HE  FELL  IN  LOVE  WITH  HIS  WIFE,  1910; 

THE  MAN  HIGHER  UP,  1912. 


THE    FIRST   ACT 


PERSONS 

PORTIA  PERKINS 
LUCILLE  PERKINS 
MARY  JANE  PERKINS 
IVY  WILCOX 
Miss  FAXON 
BARRETT  SHERIDAN 
STAR  SKINNER 
JOEL  SKINNER 
CLAUD  WHITCOMB 
LINC  WATKINS 
ROME  PRESTON 
HIRAM  PERKINS 


MARY  JANE'S  PA 
THE    FIRST   ACT 

It  is  a  waning  September  afternoon,  so  early  in  the 
present  century  that  the  little  town  of  Gosport,  In 
diana,  where  the  scene  is  laid,  is  still  outside  those 
phases  of  social  evolution  which  are  now  named  The 
Labor  Question,  Feminism,  Trial  Marriage,  Linotyp 
ing,  Direct  Primaries,  The  Crematorium,  The  Montes- 
sori  Method,  and  The  House  Beautiful. 

The  room  shown  is  both  dining  and  living  room. 
The  door  at  the  back  stands  open,  but  is  covered  by  a 
screen  door  and  leads  onto  a  side  porch.  To  the  right, 
at  the  rear,  is  a  bay  window  commanding  a  neighborly 
view  of  the  house  next  door  and,  more  obliquely,  of  the 
street.  A  door  in  the  right  wall  leads  into  the  parlor, 
which,  as  is  customary  in  rural  America,  is  dedicated  to 
formal  occasions.  An  open  staircase,  broken  by  a  turn 
and  landing,  occupies  the  left  upper  portion  of  the 
room.  At  the  top  of  the  stair  is  a  door  leading  to  a 
passage,  off  which  the  bedrooms  are  situated.  In  the 
left  wall,  below  the  staircase,  is  a  door  leading  to  the 
kitchen  and,  beyond  it,  to  the  back  yard. 

Against  the  lower  right  wall  is  a  sideboard  and,  a 
few  feet  in  front  of  it,  a  dining-table  of  the  highly 
varnished  "  golden  oak  "  variety;  the  accompanying 
six  chairs  of  the  "  set  "  are  disposed  about  the  room. 
The  other  furnishings  are  a  tufted  velveteen-covered 


4  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

couch  and  cushions;  a  reading-table  in  the  window,  on 
which  is  the  traditional  globular  lamp  with  decorated 
shade;  a  sewing  machine  and  workbasket,  on  which  lies 
tossed  an  unfinished  shirt  waist.  Two  or  three  rocking- 
chairs  are  about  the  upper  and  left  portion  of  the  room. 
To  the  left  of  the!  outer  door  is  an  oak  hat-stand  holding 
a  waterproof,  a  couple  of  umbrellas,  a  sunbonnet,  and  a 
child's  jacket.  At  the  foot  of  the  stair  is  a  small  stand 
on  which  are  three  small  bedroom  lamps  and  a  dish  of 
matches.  At  the  windows  are  shades  and  Nottingham 
lace  curtains;  a  few  potted  plants  stand  on  the  sills. 
On  the  floor  is  a  tapestry  Brussels  rug  of  a  pattern  and 
color  not  in  the  best  taste.  The  walls  are  papered 
semi-inconspicuously  and  are  relieved  by  a  -few  colored 
photogravures,  framed  gayly  in  gilt,  while  three  or  four 
black  oval  frames  contain  the  likenesses  of  men  in  Civil 
War  uniforms  and  women  in  hoop  skirts  and  flowing 
sleeves.  A  shelf  on  the  wall  of  the  jog  is  draped  in  gay 
flowered  silk,  and  on  it  is  a  clock,  a  few  glass  and  china 
ornaments,  small  picture  frames,  etc.;  below  it  is  a 
light  oak  combination  bookcase  and  writing-desk.  A 
neat  disorder  prevails,  showing  that  the  room  is  con 
stantly  lived  in.  Books,  magazines,  writing  material, 
and  sewing  indicate  the  activities  and  pleasures  of  the 
occupants. 

The  whole?  atmosphere  reflects  homely  comfort,  an 
absence  of  luxury,  and  a  pastoral  innocence  of  the 
William  Morris  influence. 

At  the  dining-table  and  facing  the  kitchen  door 
Lucille  Perkins  sits  working  over  her  lessons,  her  books 
and  writing  material  scattered  before  her.  She  is  six 
teen,  slender,  graceful,  and  simply  gowned  in  a  light 
cotton  dress.  Her  face  is  delicate  and  shows  imagina- 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  5 

tion,  self-will,  a  divine  discontent  fostered  by  dreams  of 
the  great  world  beyond  her  ken.  A  certain  intellectual 
quickness,  and  a  pride  in  it,  gives  her  a  poise  and  dig 
nity  that  is  very  rare  in  one  of  her  years  and  circum 
stances . 

VOICE  (from  kitchen) 

Whoo-ee!     Is  anybody  at  home? 

LUCILLE  (looking  up) 
Is  that  you,  Ivy? 

IVY  (cautiously  looking  in  before  entering.  She  is  the 
self-assured,  ignorant,  blatant,  belle  of  the  very 
small  town,  about  eighteen  years  of  age  and  pretty 
in  a  flashy  way.  She  has  on  a  faded  loose  Mother 
Hubbard  wrapper  and  old  slippers.  Her  front  hair 
is  in  curl  papers  and  the  rest  is  in  a  frowzy  pigtail 
down  her  back.  She  appears  to  be  husbanding  her 
charms  that  later  will  be  displayed  m  complete 
effulgence  when  her  hair  is  "  done "  and  she  is 
"  dressed  up")  Yeh-ah,  it 's  me.  Ain't  anybody 
here,  is  they? 

LUCILLE 

No,  I  'm  alone. 

IVY 

Thank  goodness!  I  just  run  over  the  back  way. 
I  'm  a  perfect  show.  (She  comes  mto  the  centre  of 
the  room,  reassured  that  there  are  no  males  present 
and  her  reputation  as  a"  looker  "  is  still  safe) 

LUCILLE  (exhibiting  a  mild  neighborly  interest) 
What  have  you  got  your  hair  done  up  for?    Where 
are  you  going? 

IVY 

Over  to  Cloverdale. 


6  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

LUCILLE 

What  is  it? 
IVY  (with  conscious  pride} 

G.  A.  R.  Sociable.     I  'm  goin'  to  recite. 
LUCILLE 

Oh!     (suppressing  a  little  amused  smile) 

IVY 

Yeh-ah.  Em-hm.  I  came  over  to  see  if  you  had  any 
perfumery.  I  had  an  elegant  bottle  of  Jockey  Club, 
and  I  knocked  it  off  the  what-not  accidental  and 
spilled  the  whole  of  it. 

LUCILLE  (rising) 

I  have  some  violet,  I  think.  (Goes  up  to  clock  shelf 
and  gets  it) 

IVY 

Violet?  That  always  seems  kind  of  weak  to  me. 
(She  pulls  out  the  stopper,  turns  some  of  the  extract 
on  her  wrapper,  and  sniffs  it)  Seems  like  a  waste 
of  money  to  buy  it;  but  of  course  it  smells  better 
than  nothin'.  (Hears  noise  in  street  and  runs  up  to 
window,  cautiously  draws  curtains  aside  and  peeks 
out;  her  face  lights  up)  There 's  Star  Skinner 
ridin*  by  in  his  rig.  He  's  most  breakin'  his  neck 
to  look  in  here.  (Jumps  back  from  window)  My 
land,  I  would  n't  let  Star  Skinner  see  me  like  this 
fer  the  world.  (Takes  another  pe&k)  Now  he  's 
slowed  his  horse  up  to  a  walk  (with  a  trace  of 
malicious  envy)  Tryin'  to  ketch  sight  of  you,  I 
suppose.  .  .  .  There  he  goes.  .  .  .  (Looks  after  him 
a  moment,  then  comes  down  to  the  table  and  watches 
Lucille  writing)  Doin'  your  lessons? 

LUCILLE 
Yes. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  7 

IVY 

What? 

LUCILLE 

Algebra,  Latin,  and  English. 

IVY 

My  goodness,  I  don't  see  how  you  ever  remember  all 
that  mixed-up  mess.  I  never  was  cut  out  fer  high 
school  .  .  .  but  then,  I  guess  my  devotin'  myself  to 
poetry  recitations  the  way  I  do  is  jest  as  educative. 

LUCILLE  (dryly) 
Very  likely. 

[A  long  low  whistle  is  heard  from  the  front  of  the 
house.  Lucille  looks  up,  her  face  brightens.  Ivy 
runs  to  the  window. 

IVY 

Why,  there  's  that  elegant  actor  fellow  that  played 
here  Carnival  Week.  (Jumps  back  with  a  squeal  and 
begins  running  in  a  panic-stricken  way  about  the 
room)  Oh,  he  's  comin*  in  here.  .  .  .  Oh,  where  'U 
I  go?  ...  Oh,  Lucille,  don't  let  him  see  me.  .  .  . 
Oh!  .  .  .  (Dashes  into  the  parlor  at  the  right  and 
pulls  the  door  shut  after  her) 

LUCILLE 

Barrett  Sheridan  coming  here? 

[She  goes  quickly  to  mirror  in  sideboard,  runs  her 
hands  over  her  hair  to  smooth  it,  straightens  her 
belt,  and  gives  a  little  pull  at  her  collar.  Barrett 
Sheridan  appears  at  the  screen  door  and  knocks. 
He  is  a  well-set-up,  good-looking  chap  of  twenty- 
three  or  four.  There  is  something  of  the  romantic 
in  his  appearance,  and  in  his  speech  and  bearing  an 
over-emphasis  that  is  characteristic  of  the  lesser 
people  of  the  stage.  Underneath  this,  however,  is  a 


8  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

sincere  and  generous  nature,  and  shining  through  all 
the  breeding  and  clean  ideals  of  the  best  type  of 
educated  Middle  West  American.  He  is  dressed 
fashionably  for  travelling. 

LUCILLE  (making  an  effort  to  appear  nonchalant) 
Why,  Mr.  Sheridan,  what  a  surprise! 

SHERIDAN 

Yes,  I  knew  it  would  be. 

LUCILLE 

I  'd  like  to  ask  you  in,  but  .  .  . 

SHERIDAN 

I  know  .  .  .  your  mother  .  .  . 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  she  is  n't  here  now. 

SHERIDAN 

Is  n't  she?  (He  opens  the  screen  door  and  steps  in 
side;  their  eyes  rest  on  each  other's  faces  eagerly) 
And  if  she  were  here,  she  would  n't  ask  me  in  ... 
(A  little  embarrassed  pause)  I  had  to  pass  through 
Gosport  to-day,  and  I  stopped  over  just  to  get  a 
look  at  you.  Why  have  n't  you  answered  my  letters  ? 
LUCILLE 

Mother  would  n't  let  me. 

SHERIDAN 

Oh.  .  .  .  She  certainly  has  no  use  for  an  actor. 
LUCILLE 

I  'm  so  sorry. 

SHERIDAN 

I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  Ve  arranged  to  play  here 
another  week,  beginning  the  twenty-seventh. 
LUCILLE 

Oh,  splendid! 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  9 

SHERIDAN 

Are  you  glad,  dear? 
LUCILLE  (gasping) 
Oh! 

SHERIDAN 

I  mean,  are  you  glad  ...  er  ...  a  ...  Miss 
Lucille? 

LUCILLE 

Of  course  I  am.  Oh,  I  do  love  to  see  you  act.  I  'm 
sure  you  must  be  the  greatest  actor  in  the  world. 

SHERIDAN  (feeling  that  there  is  some  justice  in  the 
praise,  but  bearing  it  modestly}  Oh,  not  the  great 
est,  perhaps. 

LUCILLE 

Well,  almost,  anyway. 

SHERIDAN   (coming  down  to  earth) 

I  've  got  to  be  on  my  way.  I  just  wanted  to  be  sure 
you  had  n't  forgotten  me  ...  and  do  try  and  get 
your  mother  to  like  me  a  little. 

LUCILLE 

I  have  tried. 

SHERIDAN 

Have  you? 

LUCILLE  (tracing  a  pattern  in  the  carpet  with  her  toe) 
Yes. 

SHERIDAN 

Well,  good-bye,  Lucille.  .  .  .   (Getting  her  hand  in 
his)     You  '11  let  me  call  you  Lucille,  won't  you? 
LUCILLE 

Why  ...  a  ...  yes  .  .  .  that 's  my  name. 

SHERIDAN 

Then  good-bye  until  .  .  .   (He  starts  for  the  door) 


10  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  say  ...  er  ...  Mr.  Sheridan  .  .  . 
SHERIDAN  (turning  to  her  quickly) 
What  is  it? 

LUCILLE 

Are  .  .  .  are  you  awfully  in  love  with  the  leading 

lady? 
SHEEIDAN  (theatrically  raising  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling) 

In  love  with  her.  .  .  .  Ye  gods ! 
LUCILLE 

When  you  played  here  it  looked  so  to  me  from  where 

I  sat. 

SHERIDAN 

But  that  was  only  stage  love. 

LUCILLE 

Stage  love?    Why,  what's  the  difference? 

SHERIDAN  (rather  put  to  it  for  a  definition,  but  deter 
mined  to  settle  the  business)  Why,  the  difference 
between  stage  love  and  real  love  is  that  .  .  .  that 
the  more  you  make  love  the  less  you  want  to  and  .  .  . 
er  .  .  .  and  in  real  love  why  .  .  .  (getting  a  flash 
of  inspiration)  the  less  you  make  love  the  more  you 
want  to. 

LUCILLE  (the  flash  being  too  brilliant  for  her  immediate 
grasp)  Oh!  .  .  .  (A  slight  pause,  the  light  comes, 
and  a  smile  irradiates  her  face;  she  draws  a  long, 
happy  breath)  Oh ! 

SHERIDAN  (in  his  best  stage  manner) 

Until  the  twenty-seventh,  adieu.     (Kisses  her  hand 
and  goes  out  and  on  his  way) 

LUCILLE 

Good-bye.      (She  is  startled  and  delighted  at   the 
kissing  of  her  hand;    she  stands  in  the  door  holding 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  11 

the  screen  partly  open  and  watches  Sheridan  going 
blithely  down  the  street;  then  she  holds  the  back  of 
her  hand  to  her  face  caressingly) 

IVY  (sticking  her  head  out  of  the  parlor  door  and  mak 
ing  a  noise  to  attract  Lucille's  attention)  Pst  .  .  . 
pst  ...  (sotto  voce)  Is  he  gone? 

LUCILLE  (falling  suddenly  to  earth) 
Yes. 

IVY 

Well,  Lucille  Perkins,  ain't  you  the  case? 

LUCILLE  (coming  down  to  table  and  resuming  her  les 
sons)  What  do  you  mean? 

IVY 

Havin'  an  actor  callin'  on  you. 

LUCILLE 

What  of  it? 

IVY 

It  seems  awful  dangerous  to  me. 
LUCILLE 

Dangerous  .  .  .  why? 
IVY 

Why,  they  're  so  fascinatin'.     They  jest  lure  a  girl 

on  and  on,  and  then  leave  her  to  die  of  a  broken 

heart. 
LUCILLE  (laughing) 

Oh,  Ivy! 

IVY 

I  've  read  about  'em  in  novels. 
LUCILLE 

What  trash. 

IVY 

I  '11  lend  you  one  I  've  got.     It 's  about  a  girl  that 
fell  in  love  with  a  — 


12  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

STAR  SKINNER  (at  the  screen  door) 

Anybody  home? 
IVY  (screaming  and  covering  her  hair  curlers) 

Don't  let  Star  Skinner  see  me.     (She  dashes  off  into 

the  parlor  again,  leaving  the  door  open  behind  her) 
LUCILLE 

Why,  Star! 

STAR 

Hello,  Lucille! 

LUCILLE  (with  a  minimum  of  cordiality) 
Won't  you  come  in? 

[Star  enters.  He  is  a  rather  good-looking  youth  of 
nineteen  or  twenty,  dressed  in  the  best  country  man 
ner,  which  is  a  trifle  flashy  as  to  tie,  handkerchief, 
hose,  and  jewellery.  His  bearing  is  such  as  befits  the 
only  son  of  Gosport's  richest  citizen  and  a  good 
catch.  His  speech  is  that  of  the  small  town  boy  who 
"  hated  school  "  and  who  dissipates  his  time  and 
energies  in  the  local  billiard  parlor,  loafing  in  the 
front  doorway  of  his  father's  "  Dry  Goods  Empo 
rium,"  or  driving  about  to  the  neighboring  towns  in 
his  smart  little  top  buggy.  At  the  present  moment 
he  seems  to  be  nursing  a  grievance  which  Lucille's 
easy  indifference  in'flames. 

STAR 

Can't  stay,  my  horse  ain't  hitched.  (He  fidgets  with 
his  hat  for  a  moment  before  coming  to  the  point) 
I  want  to  know  if  you  '11  go  to  the  lecture  with  me 
next  Friday  night. 

LUCILLE  (with  the  callousness  of  a  girl  who  is  sure  of 
her  victim)     Oh,  I  don't  know. 

STAR 

You  don't  know?  .  .  .  Say,  look  here,  Lucille,  ever 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  13 

since  that  actor  fellow  Sheridan  played  here,  you  've 
treated  me  like  a  speckled  pup. 

LUCILLE  (his  language  particularly  jarrmg  after  Sheri 
dan's  charming  diction}     That 's  a  nice  way  to  talk. 

STAR 

Well,  you  have.  Here  we  been  keepin'  company  fer 
six  months  .  .  .  and  I  've  taken  you  to  everything 
that  was  goin'  on  ...  you  know  I  did,  too  .  .  . 
even  after  your  Maw  started  fightin'  Paw  in  the 
"  Clarion." 

LUCILLE  (rising  and  clearing  books  off  the  table) 
I  'm  not  to  blame  for  what  mother  says  in  the  paper. 

STAR 

Maybe  not,  but  it  makes  Paw  madder  than  a  hatter 

about  my  goin'  with  you. 
LUCILLE  (with  the  sensations  of  a  small  Catherine  of 

Russia)     Don't  do  it  then. 
STAR  (in  a  perfect  perspiration) 

That 's  all  the  credit  I  get.     If  that  ain't  jest  like 

a  girl. 
LUCILLE  (taking  a  tablecloth  from  the  sideboard  drawer 

and  spreading  it  on  the  table)     I  'm  sure  I  've  never 

encouraged  you. 
STAR 

Well,  you  never  discouraged  me  till  that  cheap  actor 

came  to  town. 
LUCILLE  (instantly  seeing  red) 

He  is  n't  a  cheap  actor. 
STAR 

Ten,  twent',  and  thirt'. 
LUCILLE  (for  the  moment  capable  of  murder) 

Star  Skinner,  you  — 


14  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

STAR 

Well,  what 's  he  doin'  here  in  town  to-day?     I  saw 

him  come  in  here. 

LUCILLE  (realizing  her  weakness  in  betraying  her  feel 
ings  and  returning  to  her  former  refined  method  of 

torture)     Better  ask  him.     (She  begins  to  lay  the 

stiver) 
STAR  (the  hook  once  more  firmly  in  his  gills) 

Shoot!  .  .  .   (Watching    the   artistic    precision   she 

employs  m  her  task)     I  don't  want  to  quarrel  .  .  . 

and  I  don't  care  much  what  Paw  says.     (Discovers 

that  she  is  softly  humming  a  gay  little  tune)     Well. 

.  .  .  Oh,  say,  will  you  go  to  the  lecture  with  me? 
LUCILLE 

You  'd  better  ask  someone  else. 
STAR 

I  don't  want  to  take  anyone  else  .  .  .  you  know  that. 

Not  that  I  can't.  .  .  .  Ivy  Wilcox  would  jump  at 

the  chance  if  I  'd  ask  her. 
LUCILLE 

Pshhe! 

[She  pantomimes  to  him  that  Ivy  is  in  the  parlor 

listening.     Panic  stricken  for  the  moment,  he  bolts 

for  the  door,  then  is  seized  of  the  fact  that  he  has  n't 

got  anywhere  with  Lucille. 
STAR  (quite  humbly) 

Are  you  comin'  to  choir  meetin'  to-night? 
LUCILLE 

Yes. 
STAR  (with  inspiration) 

Well,  if  you  will  go  to  the  lecture  with  me,  wear  a 

blue  ribbon  in  your  hair. 


ACT  i]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  15 

[Before  she  can  answer,  Claud  Whit  comb  appears  in 
the  door  at  left,  from  the  kitchen,  and  raps  on  the 
casing  with  his  whipstock,  having  stalked  through 
the  back  way  in  true  democratic  fashion. 
CLAUD 

Hello,  Lucille!  .  .  .  Hello,  Star! 

STAE 

Hello,  Claud! 

[Claud  is  a  tall,  lanky  specimen  of  the  small  farmer. 

Age    anywhere    between    thirty    and    forty.      His 

weather-beaten,  faded  garments  and  cap  are  of  that 

indescribable  hue  common  to  farmers  and  dried  earth. 

His  attitude  toward  his  fellows  is  that  of  liberty, 

equality,  and  fraternity. 
CLAUD  (to  Star) 

Goin'  back  to  the  store? 
STAR 

Yes. 

CLAUD 

Say,  how  you  sellin'  white  vests? 

STAR 

Ministers  one  dollar,  common  folks  two.     (Goes  out) 
CLAUD  (staggered  at  this  revelation  of  class  privilege) 
Ministers  one  dollar,  common  folks  two.     (Scratch 
ing  his  ear  as  a  philosophical  stimulant)   .  .  .  Well, 
by  hookey,  it  pays  to  be  a  minister,  now  don't  it? 
.  .  .  (Returning  to  the  commonplaces  of  life)     Is 
your  Maw  to  hum,  Lucille? 
LUCILLE  (contmumg  the  setting  of  the  table) 

Not  yet. 
CLAUD 

I  got  a  little  jag  of  wood  out  here.     I  thought  she 


16  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  I 

might  like  it  fer  kitchen  use.  Beech  and  maple, 
seasoned  all  winter.  I  ought  to  know,  fer  I  split  it 
myself. 

LUCILLE 

You  '11  have  to  wait  and  ask  mother. 

CLAUD 

I  wish  she  'd  hurry.  I  want  to  go  down  and  see  the 
seven-fifteen  come  in.  I  missed  the  three-forty-two. 

LUCILLE 

Won't  you  sit  down? 

CLAUD 

Guess  I  might  as  well. 

[He  takes  a  dining-chair  and,  placing  it  against  the 
lower  casing  of  the  kitchen  door,  sits  tilted  back,  his 
feet  on  the  chair  rungs  and  his  head  against  the 
wall.  A  knock  comes  at  the  screen  door  and  Lucille 
goes  up  and  opens  it,  admitting  Miss  Faxon,  who  is 
carrying  an  imitation  leather  travelling  satchel.  Miss 
Faxon  is  the  remains  of  the  prehistoric  "  Pretty 
Milliner."  Fifty-five  years  spent  for  the  most  part 
in  the  study  and  decoration  of  the  females  of  Gos- 
port  and  its  vicinity  have  considerably  ravaged  her 
original  charms.  Keeping  pace  with  her  experience, 
her  figure  has  broadened  as  well.  Her  hair  has  not 
escaped  the  snows  of  Time,  but  its  aging  effects  have 
been  mitigated  by  a  bright  chestnut  water-wave,  worn 
across  the  upper  brow.  This  arrangement  results  in 
a  cheerful  if  startling  contrast  to  the  gray  temples. 
A  liberal  use  of  liquid  first  aid  to  the  complexion  and 
a  more  or  less  discreet  application  of  rouge  on  the 
cheek  bones  give  to  the  lady  a  lively  if  not  altogether 
human  aspect.  Her  hat  is  a  marvel  of  constructive 
trimming,  embracing  various  feathers  rampant  and 


ACT  i]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  17 

bows,  rosettes,  and  buckles  couchant.  The  ensemble 
suggests  an  attempt  to  depict,  sartorially  and  simul 
taneously,  the  five  styles  of  architecture.  Her  gown 
and  wrap  of  sterling  material  are  evidently  hang 
overs  from  the  Victorian  period  remodelled  and  em 
bellished  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  prevailing  mode. 
Having,  during  the  early  days  of  her  dispensation, 
been  discovered  in  the  act  of  eating  an  oyster  supper 
in  the  rear  section  of  Gos port's  only  restaurant  with 
a  married  man,  she  has  found  the  climb  to  her  pres 
ent  respectable  eminence  a  difficult  one.  By  dint  of 
hard  labor  in  the  Methodist  Church,  its  Ladies'  Aid 
Bazaars  and  Picnics,  by  her  devotion  and  zeal  in  the 
United  Order  of  the  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Free 
dom,  and  by  her  unflagging  spirit  at  Flag  Raisings 
and  Old  Folks  Concerts,  her  early  indiscretion  has 
been  overlooked,  and  she  is  now  numbered  among 
Gosport's  "  best  people."  Occasionally  her  fancy 
turns  to  thoughts  of  love,  not  in  the  old  mad  way, 
but  because  of  a  virtuous  longing  to  "  settle  down 
and  make  some  good  man  happy." 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Miss  Faxon?  Won't  you 
come  in? 

MISS  FAXON  (entering  the  room) 
Is  your  maw  here? 

LUCILLE 

No,  she  has  n't  come  yet.    Won't  you  sit  down? 

MISS  FAXON  (settling  herself  in  a  rocker) 

I  went  to  the  "  Clarion  "  office  and  she  wan't  there, 

so  I  came  on  here. 

[Claud  and  Miss  Faxon  exchange  a  little  nod  of 

recognition. 


18  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

LUCILLE 

Are  you  going  away? 

MISS  FAXON 

Yes.     I  'm  goin'  on  the  seven-fifteen  to  Indianapolis. 
They  's  excursion  rates  to-day,  so  I  thought  I  'd  go 
up  and  git  the  Fall  styles. 
LUCILLE 
I  see. 

MISS  FAXON 

I  wanted  to  leave  a  personal  with  yer  maw  and 
change  my  advertisement. 

LUCILLE 

Leave  them  with  me ;    I  '11  give  them  to  mother. 

MISS  FAXON 

Well,  I  want  to  get  her  opinion  about  my  advertise 
ment.  Now  Miss  Culver  has  changed  her  advertise 
ment  from  "  stylish  "  to  "  artistic  "  millinery.  Ain't 
that  silly?  Jest  as  if  she  was  sellin'  oil  paintin's 
instid  of  hats. 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  has  she?    I  hadn't  noticed. 

MISS  FAXON  (with  honest  pride) 

Now  my  ad.  has  stood  "  Fine  Millinery  "  fer  nineteen 
years,  but  now  I  'm  goin'  to  change  it  to  "  .Refined," 
and,  if  I  do  say  it,  refined  hats  is  my  speciality. 

LUCILLE 

Do  you  know  what  the  styles  will  be  this  Fall? 

MISS  FAXON 

Oh,  I  've  a  gineral  idee.  Side  effects  in  trimmin', 
bandeaux  ginerally  under  the  brim,  lower  crowns  and 
wider  rims,  birds  and  breasts  as  usual,  and  ostrich 
feathers  more  so. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  19 

LUCILLE 

Oh! 

CLAUD 

Whew! 

MISS  FAXON  (nervously  rising  and  going  to  window) 
I  told  Line  Watkins  to  stop  here  fer  me  with  the  bus. 
I  '11  have  to  wait  a  spell,  I  guess,  fer  I  don't  see 
it  comin*  yet.  .  .  .  My  land,  if  here  ain't  Mr. 
Skinner.  What  in  the  world!  .  .  .  He  hates  yer 
maw  like  pison !  .  .  .  Why,  it  must  be  he  knows  I  'm 
here  and  is  comin'  to  see  me  off.  Now  don't  that, 
beat  all? 

LUCILLE 

Mr.  Skinner  coming  here? 

MISS  FAXON  (coming  down  and  speaking  for  Lucille* s 
ear  alone)  It 's  the  most  astonishing  thing  the  way 
widowers  is  always  attracted  by  milliners.  .  .  . 
(Raising  a  warning  finger)  Don't  never  be  a  milli 
ner,  Lucille,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  run  after. 
[Knock  at  the  screen  door.  Miss  Faxon  settles  her 
self  in  an  effective  attitude  in  Lucille' s  chair. 

LUCILLE  (goes  up  to  the  door  and  opens  it  with  a 
more  formal  tone  and  manner  than  she  has  employed 
with  the  other  callers)  Come  in,  Mr.  Skinner. 
[Skinner  brushes  by  her.  He  is  a  man  nearing  sixty, 
well  preserved,  vital,  keen,  and  narrow.  He  has  the 
assurance  of  one  who  has  forged  ahead,  made  money, 
and  gotten  a  financial  grip  on  his  community.  He 
has  ambition  and  sufficient  imagination  to  attempt 
higher  flights  than  his  neighbors,  but  is  too  egotis 
tical  to  realize  his  limitation*.  He  is  very  well 
dressed  in  a  countrified  way,  well  fed,  but  too  dy 
namic  to  accumulate  fat. 


20  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER 

Good  evening,  Lucille.  Well,  well,  Miss  Faxon.  .  .  . 
Howdy,  Claud?  .  .  .  (By  way  of  being  chatty)  Nice 
day  we  've  had. 

MISS  FAXON 

Yes,  fine  fer  travellin'. 

IVY  WILCOX  (with  a  shrill  scream  dashes  across  the  room 
from  the  parlor,  through  the  kitchen,  her  hands  cov 
ering  her  curl  papers)  Oh,  don't  anybody  look  at 
me.  .  .  .  Please  don't  look.  .  .  .  Don't  you  dare 
look! 
[All  are  stunned  at  the  passing  cyclone. 

SKINNER 

Well,  I  swan! 

MISS  FAXON 

My  land! 

CLAUD 

Gee  whittaker!     (He  nearly  falls  off  his  chair  as  the 
apparition  passes  him) 
SKINNER 

What  was  that? 

LUCILLE 

Only  Ivy  Wilcox. 

ALL  (as  if  the  explanation  were  ample) 
Oh! 

LUCILLE 

Will  you  excuse  me?     (She  goes  into  the  kitchen  as 

if  to  prepare  supper) 
SKINNER  (observing  Miss  Faxon's  satchel) 

Goin'  up  to  the  city? 
MISS  FAXON  (with  a  traveller's  importance) 

Yes. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  21 

SKINNER 

Buyin'  Fall  goods? 

MISS  FAXON 

Yes. 

SKINNER 

I  ought  to  go,  but  on  account  of  the  political  situa 
tion  I  can't  leave  town  just  now.  (Casually  picks 
up  a  cooky  from  a  dish  on  the  table  and  eats  it  with 
discriminating  relish) 

MISS  FAXON  (sympathetically  interested) 

Do  you  think  you  kin  carry  the  nomination,  Mr. 
Skinner?  Rome  Preston  is  runnin'  you  pretty  hard, 
they  say. 

SKINNER 

Shucks !  I  kin  beat  Rome  Preston  all-fired  holler. 
(Feeling  that  his  audience  may  not  share  his  cer 
tainty)  .  .  .  Least  ways,  I  kin  if  Mis'  Perkins  will 
stop  fightin'  me  in  the  "  Clarion." 

MISS  FAXON  (succumbing  to  a  champion's  prejudice) 
For  my  part,  although  I  like  Mis'  Perkins,  and  no 
one  can't  say  I  don't,  and  I  proposed  her  name  for 
our  United  Order  of  the  Sons  and  Daughters  of 
Freedom,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  runnin'  a  newspaper 
ain't  as  womanly  as  some  occupations  I  could  men 
tion. 

SKINNER  (in  his  platform  manner) 

Spoken  like  a  true  woman  and  a  credit  to  the  Sons 
and  Daughters  of  Freedom.  Eh,  Claud? 

CLAUD 

You  bet!  (This  tribute  is  delivered  out  of  pure 
amiability  and  not  conviction) 


22  MARY   JANE'S   PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER  (dwelling  his  hold  on  the  ladies'  partisanship) 
You,  Miss  Faxon,  are  cast  in  a  more  delicate  mould, 
so  to  speak,  than  Mis'  Perkins. 

MISS  FAXON 

My  land,  Mr.  Skinner,  but  you  kin  be  poetical! 

SKINNER  (delighted  at  the  effect  he  is  producing) 
Oh,  I  kin  do  most  anything  I  turn  my  hand  to  ... 
and  so  Rome  Preston  '11  find  out. 

MISS  FAXON  (suddenly  experiencing  a  pang  of  doubt) 
Rome  's  a  smart  fellow,  though. 

SKINNER 

Oh,  he  's  got  that  university  kind  of  smartness ;  but 
what  does  that  amount  to,  I  want  to  know?  (Miss 
Faxon  is  unabltf  to  answer  his  query  and  he  turns  a 
questioning  glare  on  Claud,  who  rises  to  the  occasion) 

CLAUD 

Don't  amount  to  shucks! 

SKINNER 

What  the  constituents  of  this  here  district  wants  to 
represent  them  in  the  legislater  is  a  man  that  fer 
years  has  ben  helpin'  to  build  up  the  commerce  of 
this  country;  a  man  that  fer  years  has  clothed  the 
citizens  of  this  county;  (crescendo)  a  man  that  in 
rain  or  shine  has  stood  in  his  place  and  sold  goods 
that  was  all  wool  and  a  yard  wide. 

CLAUD  (not  entirely  borne  off  his  feet) 

Leastways,  half  wool  and  nearly  a  yard  wide. 

SKINNER  (nettled  at  this  poorly  veiled  allusion  to  his 
trade  habits)  I  was  talkin*  to  Miss  Faxon,  young 
man. 

MISS  FAXON 

Goodness,  Mr.  Skinner,  but  you  do  remind  me  of 
Senator  Albert  J.  Beveridge. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  23 

SKINNER 

Well,  they  do  say  that  I  am  a  powerful  speaker. 

LINC  WATKINS  (bawling  at  the  screen  door) 
All  aboar-r-d  for  the  sev-en-fif-tee-een ! 

MISS  FAXON  (coming  down  from  the  blue  with  a  shock) 
My  land,  Line  Watkins,  you  need  n't  take  our  heads 
off. 

LINC  (entering  the  room;  he  is  a  short,  stout  man  and 
wears  a  long,  heavy,  fur  coat  and  a  straw  hat) 
I  don't  cal'late  on  any  of  my  passengers  glttin'  left. 
(Takes  off  hat  and  mops  his  face  with  his  handker 
chief) 

SKINNER 

Great  Caesar's  ghost,  Line,  what  are  you  doin'  with 
a  fur  coat  on  this  time  of  year? 

LINC 

Why,  a  travellin'  man  left  it  with  me  and  said  if  I  'd 
take  care  of  it  fer  him,  I  could  have  the  use  of  it 
till  he  comes  on  his  next  trip.  Thought  I  'd  take 
advantage  of  the  offer  as  I  don't  expect  to  ever  git 
another  chanst  to  wear  a  fur  coat. 

MISS  FAXON 

Land  of  Goshen! 

SKINNER 

I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it,  Line. 
LINC 

I  ben  near  givin'  in  several  times,  but  I  'm  afraid  if 

I  take  it  off  now  I  '11  ketch  cold. 
CLAUD 

Well,  thet  beats  all ! 

LINC 

Mis'  Perkins  home  yet?  I  want  to  give  her  some 
items. 


24  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER 

I  understand  that  you  do  consid'able  writin'  fer  the 
"  Clarion,"  Line. 

LINC 

Yes.  I  reckon  I  'm  what  you  might  call  the  "  Clar 
ion's"  society  editor. 

PORTIA  (from  the  porch) 

Hello,  Chicks!  (Enters  room  briskly.  She  is  a 
healthy,  glowing,  breezy  woman  of  thirty- five  or  six, 
well  preserved  and  poised.  Her  sharp  experiences  of 
life  have  given  her  control  of  a  deep  emotional  nature 
and  put  a  keen  edge  on  her  sense  of  humor  and  the 
humanities.  She  is  dressed  becomingly  in  a  business 
like  summer  gown  and  hat.  As  she  breezes  into  the 
room  she  has  an  air  of  bright  expectancy)  Where 
are  my  chickens?  (Comes  to  a  stop  as  she  realizes 
the  absence  of  her  family  and  the  presence  of  several 
outsiders)  Well  .  .  .  well,  howdy  do,  folks?  What 
is  this?  Giving  me  a  donation  party?  (Takes  off 
her  hat  and  puts  it  on  hat-stand)  Good  gracious, 
Line  Watkins,  you  '11  melt  in  that  coat. 

LINC 

I  'm  gittin'  kind  of  used  to  it  now. 

PORTIA 

You  've  raised  the  temperature  of  this  room  ten  de 
grees.  Well,  out  with  it;  I  see  by  your  eye  that 
you  've  got  an  item  for  the  "  Clarion."  (Takes  a 
small  pad  and  pencil  from  a  side  pocket  in  her  dress) 

LINC  (with  considerable  mental  labor) 

The  chambermaid  at  the  hotel,  Libby  Morehouse,  is 
engaged  to  a  feller  from  Kokomo. 

PORTIA  (writing  rapidly) 

Fine  for  Libby,  but  bad  for  the  hotel. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  25 

LINC 

Mrs.  Ike  Davis  is  goin'  to  visit  her  mother,  who  's 

sick,  on  account  of  the  cheap  tickets. 
PORTIA  (writing) 

Hope  the  tickets  don't  prove  fatal.    Anything  more  ? 
LINC 

Not  till  the  train  comes  in.     If  there  's  any  news  at 

the    deepo    I  '11    stop    on    my    way    back.     A-l-1-1 

aboar-r-d-d  for  the  seven-fiftee  ....  een. 

[Miss  Faxon  hastily  scrambles  for  her  bag. 
PORTIA  (slipping  pad  in  pocket) 

Going,  Miss  Faxon? 
MISS  FAXON 

Yes,  I  'm  goin'  to  the  city  to  git  the  Fall  styles. 
PORTIA  (whipping  out  the  pad  again  in  the  way  of  the 

chronic  news  gatherer)     When  shall  you  return? 
MISS  FAXON 

To-morrow  noon. 
PORTIA  (writing) 

That 's  quick  work,  is  n't  it? 
MISS  FAXON 

It  will  give  me  two  hours  in  the  wholesale  house.    No 

use  stayin'  in  the  city  on  expense. 
LINC  {outside) 

All  aboar-r-r-r-rd ! 
MISS  FAXON 

Lucille  will  tell  you  about  the  change  in  my  ad. ;   I 

want  it  in  to-morrow's  "  Clarion."     (Sweetly)     Are 

you  goin'  down  to  the  train,  Mr.  Skinner? 

[Skinner  has  avoided  a  direct  exchange  of  looks  or 

•words  with  Portia  since  her  entrance,  and  has  put  m 

the  time  talking  with  Claud  in  presenting  him  with  a 

campaign  cigar. 


26  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER 

No,  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  Mrs.  Perkins. 
MISS  FAXON  (her  face  freezing) 

Oh,  indeed ! 
LINC  (outside,  crescendo) 

All-1-1  aboar-r-r-r-r-r-d-d-d ! ! ! 
MISS  FAXON  (running  out  the  door) 

Oh,  my  Land ! 
CLAUD  (coming  over  to  Portia  and  drawling) 

Say,  Mis'  Perkins,  I  got  a  cord  of  kitchen  wood  out 

here,    sixteen   inch   beech    and    maple,    seasoned    all 

winter;   I  ought  to  know,  'cause  I  split  it  myself. 

PORTIA 

Look  here,  Claud  Whitcomb,  that 's  the  same  song 
you  sung  about  that  last  load  I  bought  of  you,  and 
it  was  nothing  but  ash  and  green  pine.  It  nearly 
smoked  us  out  of  the  kitchen. 

CLAUD 

Well,  this  is  all  right. 

PORTIA 

How  much  do  you  want  for  it? 

CLAUD 

Well,  it 's  worth  a  dollar  and  a  quarter. 

PORTIA 

What? 

CLAUD 

But  seein'  as  it 's  gettin'  late  you  kin  hev  it  fer  a 
dollar. 
PORTIA 

All  right.  Throw  it  into  the  yard  by  the  kitchen 
porch. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  27 

CLAUD  (sauntering  up  to  the  door) 

Say,  will  it  do  jest  as  well  if  I  put  it  in  after  a  while? 

I  want  to  go  down  and  see  the  seven-fifteen  come  in. 
PORTIA  (whipping  out  pad  and  pencil) 

Expecting  anyone? 
CLAUD 

No;   I  jest  want  to  see  it  come  in. 
PORTIA  (with  pencil  poised) 

Then  what? 

CLAUD 

I  '11  watch  it  pull  out  again.     (He  goes  out) 

PORTIA  (laughing  as  she  tosses  her  pad  and  pencil  on 
the  table)  Powerful  mental  stimulant.  (Her  ex 
pression  hardens  as  she  turns  and  faces  Skinner) 
Well,  Mr.  Skinner,  it 's  something  of  a  surprise  to 
see  you  in  my  house. 

SKINNER  (findmg  it  difficult  to  maintain  his  superior 
attitude)  I  can't  say  that  you  Ve  ever  exactly  in 
vited  me. 

PORTIA 

However,  sit  down  and  tell  me  the  reason  I  am  so 
unexpectedly  honored.  (She  places  a  chair  facing 
him  at  the  left  of  the  table,  while  he  seats  himself  in 
a  rocking-chair) 

SKINNER  (with  an  attempt  at  neighborliness) 

I  suppose  you  have  noticed  that  your  girl,  Lucille, 
and  my  boy,  Star,  have  been  keepin'  pretty  stiddy 
company  lately. 

PORTIA 

Only  childish  nonsense  and  not  to  be  taken  seriously 
at  all.  That  is  n't  what  brought  you  here. 


28  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER  (meeting  her  questioning  look  squarely) 

Well,  mebbe  it  wan't.  (There  is  a  little  pause  and 
his  tone  sharpens)  I  ben  told  that  you  was  callin' 
on  old  Mis'  Miller  out  on  the  Hancock  Road.  Is 
that  so? 

PORTIA 

Yes,  it  is.  I  got  a  very  valuable  bit  of  your  business 
history  out  there  too.  Something  that  I  think  the 
voters  of  this  district  will  be  glad  to  know  about. 
So  I  'm  going  to  tell  them  in  the  "  Clarion." 

SKINNER 

Say,  you  ain't  goin'  to  rake  up  that  old  affair,  are 
you? 

PORTIA 

I  certainly  am.     I  can't  conscientiously  keep  it  from 

my  subscribers.     If  the  people  want  to  send  you  to 

the  legislature,  they  can,  but  they  '11  do  it  with  their 

eyes  open; 
SKINNER   (unable  to  cope  with  this  calm,  determined, 

and  candid  female,  loses  his  temper)     You  're  doin' 

this  fer  Rome  Preston. 
PORTIA 

I  'm  doing  everything  I  know  to  help  Rome  Preston's 

nomination,  if  that 's  what  you  mean. 
SKINNER 

I  knew  it. 
PORTIA 

As  nearly  as  possible,  Rome  Preston  will  do  what  the 

voters  send  him  to  Indianapolis  to  do. 
SKINNER 

Well,  won't  I? 

PORTIA 

You?  .  .  .  Mr.   Skinner,  the  only  way  we  have  of 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  29 

judging  a  man's  future  is  by  his  past.  You  got  your 
start  in  life,  you  and  your  father,  stealing  mules 
from  the  United  States  Government  during  the  Civil 
War.  You  've  squeezed  every  farmer  within  twenty 
miles  with  your  usury.  You  've  sweated  the  money 
out  of  the  men,  women,  and  girls  in  the  knitting  fac 
tory.  You  're  not  a  man  who  could  withstand  the 
temptation  of  a  corporation  bribe,  and  as  a  repre 
sentative  you  would  n't  run  straight  a  week. 

SKINNER  (leaping  out  of  his  chair  and  shaking  his  fist) 
Do  you  know,  I  kin  have  the  law  on  you  fer  defama 
tion  of  my  honor. 

PORTIA  (calmly,  as  she  rises  from  her  chair) 

I  can't  defame  what  never  existed.  .  .  .  This  is  a 
fight  to  the  finish,  Mr.  Skinner,  but  I  don't  like  to 
pull  off  even  one  round  in  my  own  house. 

SKINNER 

You  jest  keep  on  and  see  how  long  you  hev  a  house 
or  anything  else.  You  want  to  remember  that  you 
ain't  paid  fer  your  press  yit. 

PORTIA  (with  a  sudden  catch  in  her  breath) 
You  mean  .  .  .   ? 

SKINNER 

I  mean  go  slow  with  that  Miller  story,  or  the  bank 
may  not  renew  your  notes. 

PORTIA 

Because  you  are  one  of  the  directors? 

SKINNER 

That 's  about  it. 

PORTIA  (counting  the  cost  for  a  moment  before  she 
speaks)  All  right,  Mr.  Skinner.  It  is  my  duty  to 
help  nominate  an  honest  man,  and  so  I  'm  going  to 
do  it. 


30  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

SKINNER 

Nominatin'  ain't  electin'. 

PORTIA 

Yes  it  is,  in  this  district,  when  the  nominee  is  an 
honest  man  and  a  democrat. 

SKINNER  (quite  beside  himself,  pacing  the  room  and 
occasionally  stopping  in  front  of  Portia  to  empha 
size  a  point)  Hm.  .  .  .  Hm.  .  .  .  Everybody  says 
Rome  Preston  is  courtin'  you  and  that 's  the  reason 
you  're  fightin'  fer  him.  .  .  .  You  're  a  widow- 
womern  .  .  .  leastwise  you  pass  fer  one,  and  bein' 
the  Honorable  Mrs.  Preston  would  n't  be  a  bad  move 
fer  you. 

PORTIA  (staggered  at  this  construction  of  her  partisan 
ship  for  Preston;  when  she  finds  her  voice  she  speaks 
evenly,  but  with  cold  wrath)  If  you  Ve  relieved 
your  mind  of  all  the  rubbish  that 's  in  it,  it 's  a 
good  time  for  you  to  start  home.  (Skinner  is  a  bit 
startled  and  subdued  by  her  icy  calmness  and  starts 
for  the  door;  when  he  reaches  it,  she  speaks  again 
in  the  same  dispassionate  voice)  Just  a  word.  .  .  . 
Whether  I  'm  a  widow  or  not  need  n't  keep  you  or 
Gosport  awake  nights.  Mr.  Preston  is  the  best 
friend  and  the  finest  gentleman  I  've  ever  known. 
...  As  to  his  courting  affairs,  I  know  nothing  of 
them,  but  any  woman  that  Rome  Preston  marries 
will  get  a  man  ...  do  you  understand?  ...  A 
man  that  knows  how  to  put  up  a  fight,  and  he 
does  n't  fight  poor  old  women  like  Mrs.  Miller  either. 
Good  night.  (Goes  up  and  stands  looking  out  of 
the  window  with  her  back  to  him) 

SKINNER  (fumbling  the  catch  on  the  screen  door  for  a 
moment  and  trying  to  find  suitable  expression  for 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  31 

his  feelings;  failing,  he  glares  at  Portia's  back) 
Does  n't  fight  women,  eh?  .  .  .  Well.  ...  I  guess 
that 's  where  he  shows  his  good  sense.  (He  goes  out, 
slamming  the  door) 

[Portia  stands  at  the  window  watching  Skinner  off 
the  premises;  then  "with  a  bitter  sigh  and  a  letting 
down  of  the  tense  muscles  she  seats  herself  at  the 
sewing  machine,  and  picking  up  the  unfinished  waist, 
begins  to  work  on  it,  stitching  on  the  machine.  Lu 
cille,  wearing  a  kitchen  apron  over  her  dress,  enters 
from  the  kitchen,  carrying  a  covered  dish  of  food. 
She  has  evidently  been  crying,  and  her  face  wears 
an  angry  pout.  She  rattles  the  dish  angrily  as  she 
places  it  on  the  table,  as  if  to  attract  attention  to 
her  wrathful  mood. 

LUCILLE 

Will  you  eat  now,  or  are  you  going  to  wait  for 
Girlie? 

PORTIA  (thinking  too  deeply  to  note  Lucille' s  temper) 
We  '11  wait  for  Girlie.  {Lucille  picks  up  the  dining- 
chair  at  left  of  the  table,  slams  it  into  place  with  a 
bang,  and  starts  for  the  kitchen;  Portia's  attention 
is  caught)  Lucille.  .  .  .  (Lucille  continues  on  her 
way)  Lucille  dear! 

LUCILLE  (stops  in  her  tracks,  but  does  not  turn) 
What? 

PORTIA 

Did  you  hear  what  that  man  said? 

LUCILLE 

Yes. 

PORTIA, 

Well,  don't  mind  it,  dearie ;  he  's  trying  to  bluff  me 
out  of  doing  my  duty,  that 's  all. 


32  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

LUCILLE  (the  angry  words  tumbling  over  each  other) 
Yes,  and  you  'd  sacrifice  everything  rather  than 
give  in. 

PORTIA  (rising  and  coming  toward  Lucille) 
Sacrifice?  .  .  .  What  do  you  mean? 

LUCILLE 

You  '11  make  old  Skinner  so  mad  that  he  '11  set  Star 
against  us. 

PORTIA 

Are  you  interested  in  Star  after  all?  I  thought  it 
was  that  young  actor  chap,  Sheridan. 

LUCILLE  (in  a  passion  of  vehemence) 

Star  Skinner  lives  here,  and  he  's  the  only  one  to  go 
anywhere  with.  He  's  the  richest  boy  in  town,  and 
if  he  gets  down  on  us  on  account  of  his  father,  I 
can  just  stay  at  home  all  winter  and  never  see 
anything  or  go  anywhere.  ...  It  does  n't  make  any 
difference  to  you  how  my  good  times  are  spoiled. 

PORTIA  (quietly  and  hiding  the  hurt  of  the  girl's  words) 
Oh,  that 's  it!  (Lucille  flirts  her  back  to  her  mother 
and  Portia  goes  over  and  puts  he'r  hands  on  the  girl's 
shoulders)  Is  this  my  little  partner,  my  girl,  that 's 
talking?  .  .  .  (Lucille  jerks  her  shoulder  and  sulks) 
So  you  believe  that  I  don't  care  for  your  happiness 
.  .  .  and  you  think  that  your  little  sweethearting  is 
the  most  important  thing  in  the  world  ...  of 
course. 

LUCILLE 

Well,  I  don't  care,  you  always  .  .  . 

PORTIA 

Don't  .  .  .  don't  answer  me  just  yet.  You  are  too 
angry  and  you  '11  say  things  that  will  hurt  us  both. 
While  we  're  waiting  for  Girlie,  I  want  you  to  go  up 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  33 

to  the  west  room  and  look  at  the  sunset  glow  and 
think  of  the  Wise  Fly. 

X.UCILLE 

I  don't  know  anything  about  the  Wise  Fly. 

PORTIA 

Don't  you?  Well,  a  fly's  range  of  vision,  dear,  is 
about  nine  feet;  and  once  there  was  a  Wise  Fly 
that  lit  on  the  dome  of  Saint  Peter's  in  Rome,  and 
as  he  gazed  nine  whole  feet  around  him,  he  said: 
"  My,  what  a  great  world  we  live  in."  .  .  .  Go  up 
stairs  and  think  about  it,  dear.  (Lucille  goes  sul 
lenly  up  the  stairs;  as  she  nears  the  top,  Portia 
speaks  again  with-  a  weary  note  m  her  voice)  And, 
dearie,  look  back  as  far  as  you  can  before  you  de 
cide  whether  I  care  for  your  happiness  or  not.  .  .  . 
I  've  been  handicapped  too ;  remember  that,  if  you 
can. 

[Lucille  goes  out  silently  and  disappears  down  the 
passage.  Portia  looks  after  her  for  a  moment;  her 
tense  attitude  breaks  a  little,  and  over  her  face  comes 
the  look  of  a  runner  who  is  beaten.  She  gathers  her 
self  up  and  in  an  automatic  manner  goes  back  to  the 
sewing.  Gradually  the  wheel  turns  more  slowly  and 
comes  to  a  stop;  Portia's  head  drops  down  on  her 
arms  over  the  crumpled  work,  and  her  shoulders 
shake  with  suppressed  sobs.  A  man's  figure  passes 
the  window  and  appears  at  the  screen  door.  He 
knocks.  Portia  does  not  hear  him. 

ROME  PRESTON  (speaking  and  opening  the  door  at  once) 
Portia !  (He  speaks  again  to  attract  her  attention) 
Portia ! 

[Preston  is  a  clean-cut,  vigorous  man  of  forty, 
attractive,  frank,  sincere,  and  with  the  rather  pic- 


34  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

turesque  manner  and  dress  of  the  traditional  lawyer 

of  the  West  and  South.     His  voice  and  enunciation 

suggest  the  platform  orator  and  effective  pleader. 

His  eyes  rest  upon  Portia  with  eager  sympathy. 
PORTIA   (scrambling  to  her  feet  and  furtively  wiping 

her  eyes)     Oh,  hello,  Rome ! 
PRESTON  (following  Portia  into  the  centre  of  the  room) 

May  I  come  in? 
PORTIA  (regaining  her  self-control) 

Yes,  do. 
PRESTON  (manlike,  he  is  awkward  when  he  is  confronted 

with  traces  of  tears,  but  his  eyes  are  all  tenderness) 

Pardon  me  for  intruding.  ...  I  was  going  home. 

...  I  usually  see  you  folks  at  supper  through  the 

window  at  this  time. 
PORTIA 

Girlie  is  n't  home  yet.    We  are  waiting  for  her. 
PRESTON 

And  you  're  not  your  old  cheery  self  to-night. 
PORTIA 

I  'm  rather  tired  and  fagged. 
PRESTON 

I  've  seen  you  when  you  were  tired  and  fagged  be 
fore,  Portia,  but  your  head  was  always  up. 
PORTIA  (the  tears  starting  at  his  understanding) 

Oh,  it 's  nothing. 
PRESTON 

It  is  these  infernal  politics.  ...  I  wish  you  'd  drop 

me  and  go  over  to  Skinner,  if  it  will  make  it  any 

easier  for  you. 
PORTIA  (with  a  whimsical  smile) 

I  've  a  tender  conscience  and  I  must  live  up  to  it. 

The  "  Clarion  "  has  stood  for  the  whitest  man  in  the 


ACT  i]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  35 

race  for  office  ever  since  I  took  hold  of  it.  I  'm 
not  going  to  change  the  policy  of  the  paper  now. 
.  .  .  Won't  you  sit  down? 

PEESTON 

No,  my  calling  here  won't  do  you  any  good  with  the 
town  gossips  just  now.  ...  I  could  n't  pass  on 
when  I  saw  you  there  like  that. 

PORTIA 

You  are  kind,  Rome. 

PRESTON 

I  wish  you  would  give  me  the  right  to  end  all  these 
worries  and  take  care  of  you  and  the  children. 

PORTIA 

You  remember  what  I  told  you  when  you  spoke  to 
me  before? 

PRESTON 

Yes,  but  I  can't  see  why  you  should  waste  all  the 
rest  of  your  life.  If  your  husband  is  living,  which 
I  very  much  doubt,  the  law  will  give  you  a  divorce  on 
the  grounds  of  desertion  and  non-support. 

PORTIA  (wearily  dropping  into  a  chair) 
I  know. 

PRESTON 

Let  me  get  it  for  you.  You  have  told  me  that  you 
were  only  a  child  when  you  married,  that  you  had 
never  loved  him  as  a  wife  should,  and  that  he  was 
equally  indifferent.  Why  not  put  an  end  to  this 
unnatural  situation? 
PORTIA 

I  can't  do  it. 

PRESTON 

But  I  can  do  it  for  you. 


36  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

PORTIA 

Don't  tempt  me,  Rome. 
PRESTON 
Portia ! 

PORTIA 

It  is  a  temptation,  I  confess.  .  .  .  After  Hiram  left 
us  I  got  as  far  up-state  as  I  could  with  the  young 
sters,  .  .  .  got  where  no  one  would  know  the  story 
or  would  tell  it  to  them.  I  've  brought  the  girls  up 
to  believe  their  father  was  like  other  men.  ...  If  I 
do  what  you  ask,  I  've  got  to  pull  down  their  ideal 
of  him.  ...  I  can't  help  feeling  that  pride  in  the 
character  of  those  we  spring  from  goes  a  long  way 
toward  helping  us  to  be  decent  men  and  women 
ourselves.  .  .  .  No,  Rome,  the  children's  happiness 
comes  before  mine  every  time.  Indeed,  their  happi 
ness  is  mine.  (Rising)  I  can't  do  it.  (Whimsi 
cally)  Besides,  if  I  got  a  divorce  and  married  you, 
I  'd  have  to  give  up  my  office,  and  then  where  would 
Gosport  get  its  job  printing  done? 

PRESTON 

Seriously,  Portia  .  .  . 

PORTIA 

You  're  trying  to  bribe  a  public  blessing,  Rome. 
No,  we  '11  let  the  old  sign  "  PERKINS  THE  PRINTER  " 
stand. 

PRESTON  (going  up  to  the  door) 

Well,  I  '11  go  on  waiting.  I  've  waited  eight  years 
now  .  .  .  that  ought  to  give  me  something  of  a 
reputation  for  patience. 

PORTIA  (follozving  him  and  extending  her  hand) 

You  're  a  brick,  Rome ;  but  don't  go  on  waiting  .  .  . 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  37 

and  .   .   .  and    don't   waste    your   life   because    I  've 

spoiled  mine. 
PRESTON  (returning  her  hand  and  looking  straight  mto 

her  eyes)     Don't  you  want  me  to  wait? 
PORTIA 

Why,  Rome  ...  I  ...  I  ... 

PRESTON 

Had  you  rather  I  wouldn't  wait? 

PORTIA  (snatching  her  hand  away  and  waving  him  off 
with  a  forced  laugh)  Go  along  to  your  office,  I 
won't  incriminate  myself. 

[Preston  laughs  and  goes  out.  Portia  goes  to  the 
machine,  picks  up  the  sewing,  and  resumes  her  work, 
humming  softly  to  herself.  Lucille,  her  face  cleared 
of  the  recent  storm,  comes  quietly  down  the  stairs; 
she  goes  up  behind  her  mother  and  puts  her  arms 
about  her  neck. 

LUCILLE 

Mother,  if  you  'd  put  me  in  a  pint  measure  just  now, 
you  'd  lose  me. 

PORTIA 

That 's  my  girl ! 

LUCILLE 

I  'm  afraid  I  can't  see  much  further  than  the  Wise 
Fly,  but  I  'm  sorry  I  was  so  mean. 

PORTIA 

You  've  given  me  credit  for  doing  my  best,  so  we 
won't  say  anything  more  about  it.  (Gives  her  an 
affectionate  squeeze  and  Lucille  goes  into  the  kitchen) 
[Mary  Jane  bolts  through  the  door  in  a  breathless 
manner,  as  if  she  had  been  running,  throws  her  books 
on  the  couch,  and  tosses  her  hat  on  the  hat-stand. 


88  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

She  is  a  healthy  girl  of  twelve,  wholesome,  normal, 
simple,  and  attractive;  much  such  a  child  as  Portia 
might  have  been  at  her  age.  Her  plump  calves  and 
ruddy  cheeks,  together  with  a  charming  literalness, 
indicate  that  while  her  sister  Lucille' s  temperament 
causes  that  young  person  to  lie  awake  of  nights,  long 
ing  and  seeing  visions  of  the  wonderful  world  of 
people  and  things^  Mary  Jane's  is  conducive  of  that 
sweet,  sound  sleep  common  to  all  good-tempered  and 
well-nourished  young  animals. 

MARY  JANE 

Hello,  Mumsey,  did  you  think  I  was  lost? 

PORTIA 

We  were  beginning  to.     We  're  all  nearly  starved  to 

death. 

[She  lights  a  shaded  lamp  and  places  it  on  tlie  supper 

table.    Mary  Jane  goes  to  the  right  side  of  the  table 

and  sits  down.     Portia  serves  her,  pouring  out  a 

glass  of  milk,  etc. 

LINC  w  ATKINS  (on  porch) 
Oh,  Miss  Perkins! 

PORTIA  (reaching  for  pad  and  pencil) 
Yes,  Line. 

UNC  (opening  the  screen  part  way  and  sticking  his 
body  half  through  the  door)  Can't  stop.  .  .  .  Two 
drummers  in  the  bus  rippin'  mad  'cause  I  did  stop. 
( With  an  effort  of  memory)  .  .  .  Mandy  Lansing  's 
come  home  from  Wabash  fer  a  three  days'  visit. 
(Portia  writes)  New  lot  of  agricultural  instru 
ments  on  the  deepo  platform.  .  .  .  Roy  Fenwick  is 
spellin'  Jim  Abbott,  the  baggage  master,  'cause  Jim  's 
goin'  to  a  dance  out  on  the  Hancock  Road. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  39 

VOICE  (from  the  street) 

Say,  driver,  are  you  going  to  take  me  to  the  hotel  or 
not? 

LINC 

I  'm  comin*. 

VOICE 

Well,  you  hurry  up. 

LINC 

I  '11  die  if  I  hurry  in  this  coat.  .  .  .  Good  night,  Mis' 
Perkins.  (Exits) 

PORTIA 

Good  night,  Line. 

[Lucille  enters  with  teapot  and  dishes  of  food,  which 
she  places  on  the  table.  A  light  blue  ribbon  bow  is 
on  the  back  of  her  hair.  She  goes  up  to  the  hat- 
stand,  gets  her  hat,  and  takes  a  book  of  anthems 
from  the  bookcase. 

LUCILLE 

I  ate  my  supper  in  the  kitchen,  mother.  It 's  time 
for  choir  meeting  now.  (She  adjusts  her  hat,  her 
back  being  turned  to  the  others) 

PORTIA 

All  right,  dear,  run  along.  I  '11  do  the  dishes  to 
night. 

MARY  JANE 

Is  n't  that  my  hair  ribbon,  Lucille? 

LUCILLE 

Yes,  may  I  wear  it? 
PORTIA 

Better  say  yes,  Girlie. 
MARY  JANE  (resigned) 

Well  ...  all  right. 


40  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

LUCILLE  (go'mg  out  the  door) 
I  '11  be  back  by  nine,  mother. 

PORTIA 

I  '11  be  up  sewing.  (Portia  resumes  her  supper,  pres 
ently  observing  Mary  Jane,  who  is  leaning  her  chin 
on  her  hand  in  a  dejected  manner)  What 's  the 
matter,  Chicken,  you  're  not  eating? 

MARY  JANE 

I  'm  not  hungry. 
PORTIA 

What  kept  you  so  late? 

MARY  JANE 

Lessons.  .  .  .  Minnie  and  I  did  them  together. 
PORTIA 

More  grammatical  analysis? 

MARY  JANE 

Worse.  .  .  .  arithmetic  .  .  .  compound  interest. 
PORTIA 

No  wonder  you  were  late. 

MARY  JANE 

That  was  n't  what  made  me  so  late,  though. 

PORTIA 

No?     What  else,  then? 

MARY  JANE  (bursting  into  tears,  her  head  down  on  her 
arm  on  the  table)     Oh,  Mumsey,  don't  ask  me. 

PORTIA 

Why,  dearie!  .  .  .  My,  but  this  is  a  wet  day  in  the 
Perkins  family.  .  .  .  You  have  n't  a  sweetheart  too, 
have  you?  (Mary  Janes  shakes  her  head  without 
raising  it)  Come  here,  then,  come  to  your  mother 
and  tell  her  what's  breaking  your  poor  little  heart. 
(Pushes  her  chair  back,  and  as  Mary  Jane,  not 
grown  up  enough  to  refuse  this  comfort,  comes  to 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  41 

her,  she  cuddles  her  in  the"  way  mothers  have  em 
ployed  since  history  began)  Have  you  and  Minnie 
had  a  fuss? 

MARY  JANE 

I  '11  never  speak  to  her  again  as  long  as  I  live. 
PORTIA 

As  serious  as  that? 

MARY  JANE 

Em-hm. 

PORTIA 

Did  she  call  names? 

MARY  JANE 

I  ...  I  ...  it   was  n't   about   m-me  ...  it   was 
about  .  .  .  y-y-youooo. 
PORTIA 

Oh,  about  me.  ...  Well? 

MARY  JANE 

Sh-she  said  you  were  a  regular  suf-fer-a-gister. 
PORTIA 

Did  she? 
MARY  JANE   (controlling  her  tears  and  sitting  up) 

She  said  you  were  in  love  with  Mr.  Preston,  and 

that 's  why  you  told  the  people  to  vote  for  him. 
PORTIA  (listening  seriously) 

I  'm  still  alive,  Girlie.     Anything  else  ? 

MARY  JANE 

Yes,  and  the  worst  of  all. 
PORTIA 

Then  let 's  have  "  the  worst  of  all." 

MARY  JANE 

I-it  's  about  .  .  .  about  .  .  .  father. 
PORTIA  (tensely) 
Oh! 


42  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

MARY  JANE 

Minnie  said,  she  did  n't  believe  I  ever  had  any  father. 

PORTIA 

Did  she?  .  .  .  Go  on. 

MARY  JANE 

And  she  said,  if  my  father  was  dead,  why  did  n't  we 
have  him  in  the  cemetery  like  other  folks. 
PORTIA  (a  little  pause) 
Well? 

MARY  JANE 

And  she  said  that  when  we  first  came  to  Gosport 
and  you  took  the  "  Clarion  "  and  worked  so  hard,  no 
one  asked  any  questions ;  but  now  you  were  so  bold 
in  fighting  for  Mr.  Preston's  election,  that  folks 
would  like  to  know  something  about  Mr.  Perkins. 
PORTIA 

Did  Minnie  think  of  all  this  herself? 

MARY  JANE 

No,  she  said  she  heard  Mr.  Skinner  and  her  mother 
talking. 
PORTIA  (her  -face  set  and  grim) 

Oh,  Mrs.  Hawkins  and  old  Skinner.  {Finally  her 
eyes  come  back  to  the  child  and  her  expression 
softens)  And  so  Minnie's  cruel  taunts  broke  my 
little  girl's  heart? 

MARY  JANE 

No,  Mumsey,  it  was  n't  what  she  said ;  but  I  felt  bad 
because  .  .  .  because  .  .  . 
PORTIA 

Because  what,  dear? 

MARY  JANE 

Because  I  could  n't  answer  her.  I  don't  know  where 
my  father  died  or  where  he  is  buried. 


ACT  i]  MARY   JANE'S   PA  43 

PORTIA 

Poor  little  chick! 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  mother,  why  don't  you  tell  us  about  father? 
PORTIA 

I  ...  I  have  n't  told  you  much  about  your  father, 
have  I? 

MARY  JANE 

No. 

PORTIA 

And  of  course  you  were  a  baby,  and  Lucille  hardly 
old  enough  to  remember  him  when  he  ...  when  he 
left  us. 

MARY  JANE 

And  we  have  n't  one  single  picture  of  him  to  show 
how  he  looked. 
PORTIA 

I  've  told  you,  dear,  that  your  father  was  a  very 
intelligent  and  unusual  man.  He  was  a  scholar  and 
.  .  .  and  .  .  . 

MARY  JANE 

But  that  does  n't  tell  what  his  face  looked  like.    And 
you  never  cry  when  you  talk  about  him.  .  .  .  And 
every   other  widow  in  this   town  wears   mourning, 
and  .  .  . 
PORTIA 

Yes,  but  those  widows  don't  have  to  run  a  printing 
office.  They  have  more  time  to  grieve. 

MARY  JANE 

But  won't  you  tell  me  what  he  ... 
PORTIA 

Some  day  I  '11  tell  you  everything.     I  tell  you  now 


44  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

that  you  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  ...  Trust 
mother,  can't  you? 

MAEY  JANE 

I  will  of  course,  Mumsey,  but  .  .  . 

PORTIA 

That 's  right.     (Mary  Jane  stifles  a  generous  yawn) 
Sleepy  already? 

MARY  JANE 

Em-hm.    I  always  get  sleepy  after  I  cry,  don't  you? 

.  .  .  Oh,  what  a  silly  question  .  .  .  you  never  cry. 

.  .  .  Did  n't  you  ever? 
PORTIA 

Yes,  there  was  a  time  when  I  cried  a  good  deal. 
MARY  JANE  (in  a  matter-of-fact  tone) 

Probably  I  won't  cry  when  I  'm  a  woman. 
PORTIA 

When  you  're  past  crying,  dear,  you  're  past  nearly 

everything  that  makes  life  worth  living. 

MARY  JANE 

Why,  you  talk  .  .  . 
PORTIA  (rising  and  forcing  a  laugh) 

I  talk  nonsense  for  a  sleepy  girl  to  go  to  bed  on. 
MARY  JANE  (after  kissing  her  mother  good  night) 

Want  me  to  wipe  the  dishes? 
PORTIA 

No. 
MARY  JANE  (starting  upstairs) 

I  think  I  '11  go  to  bed  then.  .  .  .  Don't  forget  to 

call  me  when  you  get  up.      I  want  to  make  some 

fudge   before    school.  .  .  .   (Turning    at    the    top) 

Good  might,  Mumsey. 
PORTIA 

Good  night,  dearie. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  45 

[She  watches  the  child  until  she  disappears  down  the 
passage;  then  her  figure  lets  down  dejectedly.  At 
this  moment  the  face  of  a  man  peers  in  at  the  win 
dow  and  then  passes  on.  Portia  goes  over  to  the 
table,  her  appetite  gone.  She  does  not  finish  her 
supper,  but  picks  up  the  dishes  to  clear  the  table. 
She  is  in  the  act  of  scraping  Mary  Jane's  plate  onto 
her  own  when  a  man  opens  the  screen  door  softly 
and  steps  into  the  room.  He  is  about  forty  years 
old,  and  his  appearance  is  only  a  few  removes  from 
that  of  a  tramp.  His  clothing  and  shoes  are  dusty 
as  well  as  his  hat;  the  latter,  a  soft  felt  of  no  par 
ticular  color,  is  worn  with  a  certain  nonchalant  grace. 
His  face  bears  a  three  days'  beard,  and  about  his 
neck  is  a  folded  handkerchief  in  lieu  of  a  collar. 

HIRAM   (gently) 
Pardon  me. 

[At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Portia  drops  the  plate 
she  has  in  her  hand  and  it  crashes  down  on  the  other 
dishefs;  a  cup  falls  to  the  floor  and  breaks.  She  is 
panic  stricken  for  the  moment.  The  man  is  cool, 
impudent,  and  not  altogether  unattractive. 

HIRAM 

I  fear  I  startled  you. 

PORTIA  (trying  to  be  brave) 
Who  are  you,  sir? 

HIRAM  (removing  his  hat) 
Ah,  Portia,  that 's  unkind. 

PORTIA  (in  a  half  whisper) 
Hiram.  .  .  .  Hiram  Perkins! 

HIRAM 

Yes,  it  is  I. 


46  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

PORTIA  (transfixed  and  staring  at  him) 

Hiram  Perkins! 
HIRAM 

That 's  my  name.    A  poor  thing,  but  mine  own. 
PORTIA 

Yes,  it 's  you. 

HIRAM 

You  relieve  me.  I  feared  the  ravages  of  time  might 
have  altered  the  expression  of  the  lineaments  that 
were  once  familiar,  if  not  precisely  dear,  to  you. 

MARY  JANE  (coming  down  the  passage  half  undressed 
and  unbuttoning  the  back  of  her  under  waist) 
Mumsey ! 

PORTIA  (terrified,  warns  Hiram  to  get  out  of  sight;  he 
softly  steps  back  to  the  door  in  the  shadow)  Yes? 

MARY  JANE 

I  thought  I  heard  something  smash. 
PORTIA  (in  a  strained  voice) 

I  dropped  a  plate.  .  .  .  Go  to  bed,  dear. 
MARY  JANE  (with  a  sleepy  chuckle) 

I  thought  you  were  breaking  up  housekeeping.     (She 

goes  out  again,  closing  the  passage  door  after  her) 
HIRAM  (after  a  pause) 

Which  one  was  that? 
PORTIA 

The  baby. 

HIRAM 

Is  it  possible?    (Amiably)    I  had  no  idea  it  had  been 
so  long. 
PORTIA 

It  has  been  .  .  .  eleven  years. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  47 

HIRAM 

It  would  have  been  only  ten  and  a  half,  but  that  I 
had  some  difficulty  in  tracing  you. 
[His  eye  is  caught  by  the  food  on  the  table  and  a 
hungry  look  comes  over  Ms  face;  an  eager,  half- 
conscious  movement  toward  the  table  attracts  Por 
tia's  attention  and  she  notes  his  pale,  tinder-nourished 
appearance. 

PORTIA 

Are  you  hungry? 

HIRAM 

At  five  this  morning  I  partook  of  a  light  repast, 
consisting  of  a  dried  bun.  .  .  .  Need  I  say  more? 
(  With  a  little  bow  that  is  half  satirical) 

PORTIA  {taking  the  clean  plate  from  Lucille' s  place  back 
of  the  table  and  placing  it  to  the  left  at  Mary  Jane's 
place,  with  the  silver;  gets  a  clean  napkin  from  the 
sideboard  drawer  and  places  it;  he  watches  these 
preparations  with  pleased  but  subdued  interest)  Sit 
down  and  eat. 

HIRAM 

Thank  you,  I  will.  (He  tosses  his  hat  on  a  chair 
near  the  table  and  seats  himself,  falling  to  like  a 
half-famished  man;  Portia  watches  him  for  an  in 
stant,  and  then  with  sudden  impulse  goes  to  the  bay 
window  and  pulls  down  the  shades  to  the  sill  and 
closes  the  door;  Hiram  observes  her  action  and 
smiles)  Ah,  the  neighbors.  Yes.  ...  I  dare  say 
they  would  remark  my  presence.  (With  a  shrug) 
Ah,  well  ..."  honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense."  ...  I 
suppose  we  had  better  break  the  news  to  them  gently. 
(Portia  comes  down  to  the  left  of  the  table,  facing 
him)  May  I  trouble  you  for  a  cup  of  tea?  (She 


48  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

pours  his  tea)  Not  that  I  'm  addicted  to  the  leaf, 
but  to  my  mind,  a  woman  pouring  tea  is  a  charming 
picture,  especially  if  she  have  a  good  hand  and  arm. 
(She  passes  him  the  cup  across  the  table;  his  eyes 
rest  on  her  wrist)  Yours  are  exceptional. 

PORTIA 

Oh,  let  up  on  that  nonsense! 

HIRAM 

You  will  pardon  me  for  saying  so,  Portia,  but  your 
English  is  not  so  pure  as  it  used  to  be.  "  Let  up  " 
is  not  an  expression  that  appeals  to  the  cultured  ear. 

PORTIA 

Eat  what  you  want  and  then  we  '11  talk  things  over. 
[She  ignores  his  impertinence  and  stands  watching 
him.  His  manner  is  delicate  and  ill  accords  with  his 
shabby  appearance. 

HIRAM  (breaking  a  piece  of  bread  and  examining  it 
critically)  Your  hospitality  is  enchanting.  .  .  .  By 
the  way,  Portia,  there  is  a  trifle  too  much  flour  in 
this  bread.  .  .  .  You  don't  mind  my  saying  so?  .  .  . 
If  you  remember,  cooking  is  one  of  my  accomplish 
ments,  and  bread-making  my  chef  d'asuvre.  (Portia 
stares  at  him,  speechless  at  his  impudence;  he  catches 
her  expression,  but  is  unmoved  by  it  and  examines 
her  appearance  serenely)  You  Ve  altered  in  the  last 
ten  years,  Portia.  My  absence  has  agreed  with  you. 
You  Ve  acquired  height  and  weight,  lines,  curves, 
and  expression.  You  're  no  Diana  now,  but  a  Juno. 

PORTIA  (seating  herself  opposite  him) 
Keep  your  compliments. 

HIRAM    (with  a  charming  smile) 

I  'm  not  flirting  with  you,  my  dear.  My  admiration 
is  purely  Platonic.  .  .  .  (Resuming  his  interest  in 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  49 

the  food)     This  veal  loaf  is  badly  seasoned.     Who 

made  it? 
PORTIA  (driving  the  name  home  to  him) 

Lucille. 
HIRAM 

The  eldest? 

PORTIA 

Yes. 

HIRAM 

Lucille.  .  .  .  Yes  ...  I  remember.  .  .  .  You 
named  her  after  Owen  Meredith's  heroine.  I  recol 
lect  standing  out  for  Ariadne  or  Rosalind.  You 
reacted  to  Mary  Jane  when  the  next  one  came  along. 
.  .  .  Hm.  .  .  .  Lucille  must  be  quite  a  girl  now. 

PORTIA 

She  is  sixteen. 

HIRAM 

By  all  the  gods!  .  .  .  Sixteen.  ...  As  old  as  you 
were  when  we  were  married.  .  .  .  Good  Heavens ! 
(Pause)  I  remember  her  very  distinctly.  As  an 
infant  she  gave  promise  of  some  temper  and  will 
power. 

PORTIA 

Lucille  has  a  mind  of  her  own. 
HIRAM 

Well,  Cromwell  says :  "  The  mind  is  the  man  "... 
or  woman,  of  course,  as  the  case  may  be.  (Finishing) 
If  you  don't  object,  I  '11  conclude  this  petit  souper 
with  a  smoke.  (She  nods  assent)  May  I  trouble 
you  for  a  match?  (She  indicates  the  sideboard  back 
of  him  and  he  rises,  pulling  an  old  brier  pipe  from 
one  pocket  and  an  almost  empty  bag  of  cheap  to 
bacco  from  the  other;  he  fills  the  pipe)  This  is 


50  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

hardly  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of,  but  't  will 
serve.     (Gets  match  from  sideboard,  and  as  he  ignites 
it  gives  a  comprehensive  and  critical  glance  about  the 
room,  lights  the  pipe,  and  reseats  himself,  pulling 
contentedly  at  his  pipe;    Portia  watches  him,  silent 
and  patient  and  biding  her  time) 
POKTIA 
Well? 

HIRAM 

Well? 

PORTIA 

Now  I  'm  ready  to  hear  why  you  went  away. 
HIRAM 

Does  it  really  matter  why? 
PORTIA 

No,  but  I  'm  curious  .  .  .  that 's  all. 

HIRAM 

Very    naturally.  .  .  .  I  'm    going    to    answer    your 
question  by  asking  one.  .  .  .  Why  did  you  marry 
me? 
PORTIA 

You  know. 

HIRAM 

I  Jd  like  to  have  you  put  it  in  words. 
PORTIA 

Because   I  wanted   to  go  on  the  big  excursion   to 

Niagara  Falls.     You  had  asked  me  to  marry  you. 

I  said  I  would  if  you  'd  buy  me  a  round-trip  ticket. 

You  did. 
HIRAM   (musmg  pleasantly) 

It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me  where  I  got  that 

money. 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  61 

PORTIA 

I  don't  know,  but  you  did,  and  I  kept  my  promise. 

HIRAM 

Exactly.     You  had  an  inborn  taste  for  travel.  .  .  . 
So  had  I.  ...  That 's  why  I  went  away. 
PORTIA  (with  a  catch  of  her  breath) 
Oh! 

HIRAM 

Yes,  I  heard  the  East  a-callin',  as  Kipling  says. 
That  infernal  little  town  and  printing  office  had 
gotten  on  my  nerves.  .  .  .  Pardon  me,  but  you  and 
the  infants  were  also  rather  wearing.  (Her  glare 
of  repressed  anger  is  quite  lost  upon  him)  .  .  .  Oh, 
not  your  fault;  but  the  domestic  hearth  never  had 
the  charm  for  me  that  the  poets  claim  for  it. 

PORTIA 

I  should  say  it  had  n't. 

HIRAM  (o  new  note  in  his  voice  that  is  both  real  and 
bitter)  How  could  it  have?  What  were  my  people? 
Boors  .  .  .  ignorant,  shiftless,  grovelling  savages. 

PORTIA 

They  were  your  own. 

HIRAM 

That  does  n't  alter  the  facts.  I  was  the  only  one  of 
them  that  knew  the  inside  of  a  book.  Was  it  any 
wonder  that  my  world  existed  between  covers  .  .  . 
that  my  own  people  did  not  interest  me,  and  that  I 
despised  them? 

PORTIA 

For  shame! 

HIRAM 

Not  at  all  ...  it 's  the  truth.  A  son  who  cannot 
find  common  ground  with  his  parents,  and  who  lives 


52  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

in  a  mental  world  that  his  brothers  and  sisters  can 
not  enter,  is  not  calculated  ideally  to  realize  a  hus 
band  and  father. 

POKTIA 

Then  in  God's  name,  why  did  you  marry  me? 

HIRAM  (with  a  flash  of  real  fire  and  feeling) 

You  read  books  .  .  .  and  understood  them  ...  I 
thought.  You  did,  too,  until  the  children  came,  and 
then  .  .  .  then  you  were  .  .  .  well,  maternal  and 
impossible. 

PORTIA 
Ah! 

HIRAM  (resuming  his  former  manner) 

Of  course,  I  'm  conscious  of  my  own  short-comings  as 
a  paterfamilias. 

PORTIA 

Never  mind  the  apologies  ...  go  on. 

HIRAM 

Not  to  bore  you  with  too  many  retrospections,  a 
gentle  but  irresistible  spirit  of  adventure  prompted 
me,  and  I  started  out  to  see  the  world. 

PORTIA 

Well,  have  you  seen  it? 

HIRAM  (nursing  his  knee  in  a  glowing  mood) 

I  have  ...  I  've  girdled  it  ...  I  've  slept  beside 
the  shrines  in  Mexico  .  .  .  I  've  hauled  at  the  nets 
off  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  ...  I  've  been  in 
London,  as  Shelley  says :  "  That  great  sea,  whose 
ebb  and  flow  at  once  is  deaf  and  loud  "  .  .  .  I  've 
dined  in  the  Quartier  Latin  .  .  .  drank  vodka  with 
the  traders  at  Nijni  .  .  .  campaigned  with  the 
Sudanese  .  .  .  listened  to  the  temple  bells  of  India 
.  .  .  sipped  tea  with  a  mandarin  .  .  .  watched  the 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  53 

dancing  of  the  geisha  girls,  and  looked  into  the  pa 
thetic  faces  of  the  Cingalese.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  've  lived 
...  I  've  lived. 

[His  voice  trails  off  in  reverie,  and  as  lie  pulls  at  his 
pipe  and  sends  up  the  cloud  of  smoke  he  sees  past 
scenes  and  adventures  in  the  hazy  blue.  His  spirit 
quite  detaches  itself  from  the  present  and  travels 
down  the  picturesque  road  of  his  faring.  Portia  has 
listened  in  bitter  silence  and  now  sits  grimly  contem 
plating  him.  Her  voice  comes  low  but  vibrant. 

PORTIA 

Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  to  wonder  what  had  become 
of  us  ? 

HIRAM  (tearing  himself  from  his  own  thoughts)  I  felt 
rather  certain  that  you  were  still  in  Medairyville,  as 
I  could  think  of  no  logical  way  of  you  getting  out 
of  it. 

PORTIA 

Well,  I  did  get  out  of  it,  as  you  see. 
HIRAM 

It'  s  nothing  short  of  miraculous.  .  .  .  How  did  you 

manage  it? 
PORTIA 

Thanks  to  your  chronic  distaste  for  work  and  my 

fool  ambition  to  learn  the  printing  business,  I  knew 

it  pretty  well  by  the  time  you  skipped. 
HIRAM 

Pardon  me,  I  did  not  "  skip."    The  word  is  offensive. 

I   departed  ...  or   migrated  .  .  .  but    I   did    not 

"  skip." 
PORTIA  (ignoring  his  protest) 

Well,  I  traded  the  office  in  Medairyville  and  the  ten 


54  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

acres  of  scrub  land  my  aunt  left  me  for  the  office 

here  in  Gosport.  .  .  .  I  've  done  well  with  it. 
HIRAM 

Brava ! 
PORTIA 

And  that 's  all  there  is  to  my  story,  Hiram  Perkins. 
HIRAM 

Don't  remind  me  of  that  ludicrous  name.     No  man 

living,  with  literary  aspirations,  could  rise  above  the 

influence  of  a  name  so  hideous. 
PORTIA 

It 's  had  to  be  good  enough  for  me. 
HIRAM  {with  an  amused  smile) 

Yes,  I  noticed  the  sign  on  your  office :    "  PERKINS 

THE  PRINTER."     By  Jove,  you  had  courage  to  put 

it  up. 
PORTIA  (rising  and  going  over  to  look  at  the  clock, 

nervous  and  apprehensive)     It 's  getting  late,  and 

Lucille  is  liable  to  come  home  at  any  moment.  .  .  . 

What  have  you  come  here  for  .  .  .  and  what  do  you 

want? 

HIRAM 

I  can't  say  that  I  have  any  definite  expectations. 
.  .  .  That 's  the  real  charm  of  existence  .  .  .  allow 
ing  the  casual  to  happen. 

PORTIA 

Have  you  any  money?  (He  shrugs  his  shoulders 
and,  thrusting  both  hands  m  his  pockets,  finally 
brings  up  a  few  coppers,  which  he  tosses  on  the  table 
for  her  inspection)  What  are  you  going  to  do  for  a 
living? 

HIRAM 

What  a  practical  creature  you  are,  Portia.    I  always 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  55 

felt  that  a  husband  was  really  an  obstacle  to  your 

personal  success. 
POETIA 

Have  you  a  place  to  go  ? 
HIRAM 

"  Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  's  no  place  like  .  .  ." 
PORTIA 

Do  you  mean  to  say  that,  after  deserting  us  and 

leaving  me  to  provide  for  the  children,  now,  because 

you  're  tired  of  drifting  around,  you  expect  me  to 

take  you  back? 
HIRAM 

Really,  my  dear,  you  are  telepathic  .  .  .  positively 

clairvoyant. 
PORTIA 

I  like  your  cheek! 
HIRAM 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  you  do,  although  the 

word  is  inelegant. 
PORTIA 

Rot!     (She  takes  a  turn  about  the  room  to  relieve 

her  feelings') 

HIRAM 

My  dear,  you  owe  me  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  giving 

you  the  opportunity  to  develop  your  unusual  gifts ; 

gifts  which  would  have  remained  dormant  had  I  not 

left  you  to  demonstrate  your  possession  of  them. 
PORTIA  (coming  down  and  standing  at  the  back  of  the 

table)     I  'm  going  to  tell  you  something. 
HIRAM 

Terse  and  to  the  point. 
PORTIA 

I  will  not  go  back  to  the  old  life.    Before  I  will  live 


56  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

with  you  again,  I  will  appeal  to  the  divorce  courts. 
You  know  very  well  that  you  have  given  the  law 
the  power  to  free  me  of  you. 

HIRAM 

Stated  with  the  lucidity  of  a  legal  authority. 

PORTIA 

I  've  won  a  place  and  a  living  here  for  the  children 
and  myself  ...  I  won't  have  that  disturbed.  They 
have  no  idea  of  the  truth.  They  believe  you  to  have 
been  on  the  square  with  them  and  with  me.  I  won't 
have  their  peace  of  mind  spoiled. 

HIRAM 

Tennyson  says :  "  The  bearing  and  rearing  of  chil 
dren  is  a  woman's  wisdom." 

PORTIA   (finding  this  the  "  last  straw ") 

You  sit  there  and  pour  out  your  criticisms  and  quo 
tations  !  You  are  not  dealing  with  a  girl  now  .  .  . 
you  're  dealing  with  a  woman. 

HIRAM 

And  a  very  clever  one,  I  grant  you. 

PORTIA 

I  've  gotten  this  home  together  by  pinching,  scrimp 
ing,  and  slaving.  Do  you  think  it 's  been  fun  ?  Do 
you  think  it's  been  play?  Sometimes,  let  me  tell 
you,  it  has  been  hell.  .  .  .  Well,  while  you  watched 
the  geisha  girls  dance,  I  washed  and  ironed  and 
scrubbed.  While  you  listened  to  the  music  of  the 
temple  bells,  I  ran  a  sewing  machine  until  dawn. 
While  you  sipped  tea  with  a  mandarin,  I  stood  by 
my  press  and  worked  with  my  hands  covered  with 
grease  and  ink.  You  went  your  way,  and  I  've  gone 
mine.  .  .  .  This  is  my  home  and  my  children's.  .  .  . 
Do  you  understand? 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  57 

HIRAM  (in  a  subdued  tone) 

Yes,  I  believe  I  quite  get  your  meaning.  (He  rise's, 
puts  the  pipe  in\  his  pocket,  and  gets  his  hat  from 
the  chair  above  the  table)  Portia,  your  heat  is  un 
necessary,  though  becoming  .  .  .  you  are  really 
dramatic.  (Goes  up  to  the  door)  I  hope  I  have  n't 
spoiled  your  evening.  (Opens  the  door,  which  re 
mains  standing  wide,  and  passes  out  through  the 
screen  door)  Good  night. 

PORTIA 
Wait! 

HIRAM 

I  don't  wish  to  intrude  a  second  time. 
[He  stands  for  a  moment  silhouetted  in  the  moon 
light  against  the  dark  background  of  foliage,  as  if 
deciding  which  way  he  should  take.  Portia  notes  the 
indecision  of  the  attitude  and  the  wistful,  shabby 
figure. 

PORTIA 

Come  back. 

HIRAM 

No,  thank  you. 

PORTIA  (going  to  the  door  and  pushing  open  the  screen) 
Come  in.  I  mean  it.  (He  reenters  the  room  with  a 
curious  smile,  as  if  inspired  by  his  contemplation  of 
woman's  inconstant  nature)  Sit  down.  (He  returns 
to  his  chair,  doffs  his  hat,  and  resumes  his  former 
attitude  of  perfect  ease.  Portia  closes  the  inner 
door)  Because  you  are  the  children's  father,  and 
for  their  sakes,  I  won't  have  it  on  my  conscience 
that  I  turned  you  out  when  you  were  in  need.  (He 
makes  no  answer,  but  pulls  away  at  his  pipe,  as  if 
quite  detached  from  the  situation.  Portia  paces  the 


58  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

floor,  cudgelling  her  wits  and  occasionally  stopping 
and  looking  at  Hiram)  You  could  do  well  for  your 
self  anywhere  if  you  would.  (She  resumes  her  rest 
less  walk;  suddenly  she  stops  and  whirls  on  him;  a 
wry  smile  playing  on  her  face,  she  comes  over  to  the 
table  and  stands  facing  him)  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11 
do,  and  it 's  all  I  will  do.  I  intended  getting  some 
help  here.  You  were  always  cleverer  in  the  kitchen 
than  I  ... 

HIRAM 

You  mean? 

PORTIA 

I  '11  board  and  lodge  you,  give  you  Thursday  after 
noons  off,  and  pay  you  twelve  dollars  a  month  to  do 
my  general  housework.  (There  is  a  pause,  as  he  is 
somewhat  aghast)  Take  it  or  leave  it.  (She  is  con 
scious  of  having  done  all  that  is  required  of  her  and 
experiences  a  sense  of  relief.  At  first  he  is  rather 
indignant,  but  as  he  cons  the  matter  over,  his  features 
relax  into  a  smile  of  delicate  amusement)  Well, 
what  do  you  say? 

HIRAM  (rises  with  easy  deliberation,  picks  up  the  napkin 
from  his  place  at  the  table,  throws  it  over  his  arm, 
and  assumes  a  professional  attitude)  Shall  I  do  the 
dishes  now,  mum? 

PORTIA  (blinking) 

Do  ...  do  you  mean  .  .  .  that  .  .  .  that  you  '11 
accept  ? 

HIRAM  (with  a  bore) 
Oui,  Madame. 

PORTIA 

Good  Lord! 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  59 

HIRAM 

I  think  I  mentioned  a  few  moments  ago  the  indescrib 
able  charm  of  experiencing  the  unexpected.  The 
vista  that  your  unique  proposal  opens  to  me  is 
pregnant  with  possibilities.  I  was  on  the  point  of 
becoming  blase.  My  jaded  faculties  are  alert  once 
more. 

POKTIA 

Are  you  in  earnest? 

HIEAM 

As  much  so  as  yourself.  Exit  philosopher,  enter 
factotum.  {Makes  a  move  to  clear  the  table) 

PORTIA  (half  terrified  at  his  acceptance  and  the  situa 
tion  she  has  created)  Stop !  You  .  .  .  your  duties 
won't  begin  until  to-morrow. 

HIRAM  (throws  the  napkin  on  the  table,  pulls  out  his 
pipe,  and  resumes  his  former  comfortable  position  in 
the  chair)  Madame,  I  am  obliged. 

PORTIA   (confronting  him) 

Surely  .  .  .  surely  you  are  not  in  earnest? 

HIRAM 

As  much  so  as  yourself. 

PORTIA 

You  don't  mean  that  you  will  stay  here  under  these 
conditions  ? 

HIRAM 

Why  not,  if  you  will  keep  your  part  of  the  contract? 

PORTIA  (half  distracted) 

But  Lucille !  .  .  .  Girlie !  .  .  .  (She  paces  the  floor, 
thinking  over  the  many  angles  of  the  situation; 
suddenly  she  comes  to  a  stop)  What  name  could  I 
call  you  by?  Not  Hiram,  of  course. 


60  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

HIRAM 

No,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  discard  Hiram,  which  means 
"  well-born,"  and  is  therefore  too  satirical  to  be 
agreeable.  (With  exquisite  delight  in  the  circum 
stances  of  the  moment)  Let  me  see  .  .  .  suppose 
we  select  Horatius,  Latin,  signifies  "  Waste."  For 
economy's  sake,  we  '11  not  have  Horatius.  What  do 
you  say  to  Ichabod,  Hebrew,  meaning  "  inglori 
ous "?  Inglorious  is  good.  (Warmly)  Or  best  of 
all,  Nabal,  also  Hebrew,  meaning  "  fool."  Nabal  it 
is,  Madame,  at  your  service.  (Bows) 

POETIA 
Nonsense ! 

HIRAM 

Nabal,  and  no  other  name  will  I  answer  to  ... 
begging  your  pardon. 

PORTIA 

There  is  something  terrible  in  all  this. 

HIRAM 

Why  should  it  be  a  tragic  thing  to  engage  a  servant  ? 

PORTIA 

It  is  terrible  that  such  a  bargain  should  be  struck 
between  you  and  me. 

HIRAM 

The  proposition  came  from  you. 

PORTIA 

I  never  dreamed  that  you  would  accept  it. 

HIRAM 

I  suspected  as  much.  (Makes  a  move  toward  his 
hat)  If  you  wish  to  withdraw  it  ... 

PORTIA 

No  .  .  .  no,  I  '11  stand  by  it.      (She  goes   to   the 


ACT  i]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  61 

lamp-stand  and  lights  a  candle)  Take  this  candle 
and  go  to  the  last  room  on  the  left  of  the  hall 
upstairs. 

HIRAM  (going  over  to  her  and  getting  the  candle,  after 
which  she  goes  up  to  the  window  and  throws  up  the 
shade  of  the  one  overlooking  the  street,  as  if  feel 
ing  the  need  of  air;  the  moonlight  pours  through  the 
window)  I  '11  gird  myself  with  sleep  and  prepare  for 
an  internecine  strife  with  the  local  butcher.  .  .  .  To 
morrow  the  barriers  dividing  the  employer  and  the 
employee  will  be  raised  ...  as  they  should  be. 
(He  starts  up  the  stairs.  On  reaching  the  turn  he 
stops  and  contemplates  Portia  for  a  moment,  as  she 
stands  in  the  window  with  her  back  to  him.  He  leans 
over  the  railing  and  shades  his  candle  with  his  hand, 
the  flickering  light  illumining  his  face)  Just  now  I 
am  reminded  of  Thackeray,  where  he  says :  "  You 
and  I  are  a  pair  of  infinite  isolations,  with  some 
fellow  islands  more  or  less  near  to  us."  .  .  .  What 
ever  comes  of  the  situation,  I  shall  credit  you  with 
originality,  daring  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  and  a  humane 
impulse  too.  You  see,  I  am  appreciative  if  not  de 
serving.  (She  makes  no  sign)  Bonsoir,  Madame. 
(Continues  up  the  stairs) 

POETIA 

Good  night. 

PRESTON  (from  the  street,  as  he  is  passing) 
Is  that  you,  Portia? 

PORTIA  (hesitating) 
Yes. 

PRESTON 

Good  night. 


62  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  i 

PORTIA 

Good  night,  Rome. 

[Hiram  catches  the  feeling  in  the  voices  and,  smiling 

significantly,  goes  on  down  the  passage. 

CUBTAIN 


THE    SECOND   ACT 


PERSONS 

PORTIA  PERKINS 

LUCILLE  PERKINS 

MARY  JANE  PERKINS 

HIRAM  PERKINS 

IVY  WILCOX 

Miss  FAXON 

ROME  PRESTON 

BARRETT  SHERIDAN 

JOEL  SKINNER 

STAR  SKINNER 

CLAUD  WHITCOMB 

EUGENE  MERRYFIELD 

LEWELLYN  GREEN 

JOHN  WHIFFLE 

The  Band 

The  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Freedom 

The  Street  Crowd 


THE    SECOND   ACT 

Three  weeks  have  passed.  It  is  a  typical  late  Sep 
tember  forenoon  in  southern  Indiana,  where  the  summer 
passes  very  reluctantly.  The  scene  discloses  the  shop 
of  "  Perkins  the  Printer "  and  is  an  old  store  with 
double  doors  and  windows  looking  out  upon  the  Court 
House  Square,  with  its  rows  of  trees  and  hatching-posts. 
The  dull-colored  walls  of  the  shop  are  cracked  and 
scarred,  but  somewhat  enlivened  by  samples  of  job 
printing  and  posters,  -flamboyantly  setting  forth  the 
particulars  of  railroad  excursions,  auction  sales,  county 
fairs,  etc. 

The  right  side  of  the  floor  space  is  given  over  to  the 
executive  staff.  Near  the  window  is  a  large  modern 
press  such  as  is  used  commonly  for  "  patent-inside  " 
country  newspapers  and  job  printing;  for  power  it  is 
connected  with  a  small  explosion  engine.  Against  the 
wall  is  the  distributing  shelf,  a  smk  where  the  type  is 
washed,  tablets  covered  with  stock  of  paper  and  card 
board,  a  cutting  machine,  etc.  Down  the  right  and  into 
the  room  is  a  small  Gordon  foot-power  press.  Stand 
ing  in  the  centre  and  right  is  the  compositor's  case,  and 
behind  and  before  it  a  high  stool.  Several  old  wooden 
chairs  are  distributed  about  the  room. 

The  left  side  is  plainly  devoted  to  the  editorial  de 
partment,  and  the  neat  appearance  of  the  railed-off 
portion  in  the  foreground  indicates  the  presence  and 


66  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

habits  of  a  woman.  The  fiat-topped  desk  in  the  angle 
of  the  rail  is  in  perfect  order,  and  a  vase  of  fresh  flowers 
stands  on  one  corner.  An  attractive  screen  at  right 
angles  with  the  wall  protects  from  the  view  of  passers-by 
a  well-kept  washstand  and  towel  rack.  On  the  lower 
wall  is  a  table  containing  letter  files,  books  of  reference, 
pasteboard  boxes  containing  samples  of  cards,  etc. 
Running  up  to  the  door  and  continuing  from  the  rail 
ing  is  a  wooden  counter,  back  of  which  stands  an  old- 
fashioned,  abandoned  flywheel  press  covered  with  litter. 
Back  of  the  press  and  against  the  wall  are  rows  of 
shelves  containing  cans  of  ink,  piles  of  papers,  stacks  of 
cardboard,  old  rollers,  bundles  of  clean  waste  and  all 
the  accumulation  incidental  to  a  printing  office.  In  the 
windows  and  on  the  shelves  and  tables  are  pumpkins, 
squashes,  turnips,  apples,  etc.,  of  large  proportions,  as 
well  as  other  specimens  of  agriculture  and  horticulture 
that  have  been  brought  in  by  the  rural  subscribers  to 
incite  editorial  comment  and  praise. 

In  -front  of  the  shop  is  a  crowd  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  facing  the  road  and  cheering  as  they  thrill  to 
the  vigorous  strains  of  a  brass  band.  The  music  makes 
up  in  tempo  and  volume  what  it  lacks  in  harmony.  An 
illuminated  sign  borne  in  front  of  the  band  informs  the 
spectators  that  "  The  Talented  Young  Romantic 
Star,  Barrett  Sheridan,  Will  Delight  the  Patrons  that 
Evening  at  the  Opera  House  m  his  World-Renowned 
Success  '  The  Outlaw.'  '  Some1  distance  behind  the 
band,  as  a  separate  pageant,  but  keeping  step  with 
the  music,  trudge  about  fifty  of  Gosport's  male 
and  female  citizens.  They  are  dressed  in  their  best, 
plus  gold-laced  and  plumed  cocked  hats,  sashes  of  the 
national  colors  across  their  shoulders,  and  in  their 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  67 

hands  long  wands  decorated  with  huge  bows  of  red, 
•white,  and  blue  ribbon.  A  man  in  a  frock-coat  of 
ancient  design  carries  a  silken  standard  on  which  is 
emblazoned  in  gold  "  United  Order  of  the  Sons  and 
Daughters  of  Freedom."  The  bearing  and  facial  ex 
pression  of  the  Daughters  is  even  more  galvanized  than 
that  of  the  Sons  in  the  effort  to  be  dignified  and  "  keep 
step."  The  crowd  cheers  the  United  Order  good- 
naturedly,  although  it  is  by  no  means  such  a  stirring 
novelty  as  Barrett  Sheridan's  band.  Not  far  behind 
the  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Freedom  rolls  a  rusty  old 
hack  drawn  by  two  horses  wearing  white  muslin  banners 
on  their  sides.  The  cloth  is  lettered  m  red  and  black 
and  urges  the  enfranchised  onlooker  to  "  Vote  for  Joel 
Skinner  "  and  to  "  Come  to  the  Grand  Rally  at  Crip- 
pen's  Hall  To-night."  Standing  in  the  hack,  bowing 
and  lifting  a  silk  hat  that  has  served  the  owner  at 
funerals  and  weddmgs  for  fifteen  years,  is  Joel  Skinner 
himself,  wearing  an  expression  intended  to  be  benign, 
but  which,  having  become  strained  and  rigid  from  con 
tinued  efforts,  might  now  be  easily  mistaken  for  an  out 
ward  and  visible  sign  of  an  inward  and  physical  distress. 
There  is  a  young  man,  Eugene  Merryfield,  looking 
over  copy  in  front  of  the  editor's  desk.  He  is  of  no 
particular  type,  but  is  individualized  by  the  sign  of  his 
trade,  the  dingy,  capable  fingers  of  a  typesetter.  He 
is  without  coat  or  collar;  his  sleeves  are  rolled  above 
his  elbows;  his  face  is  dirty  and  his  hair  rumpled. 
Eugene  is  the  foreman  of  the  shop,  and  as  such  takes 
his  duties  seriously.  He  is  equally  conscientious  in  his 
relations  with  the  staff,  viz.,  Mrs.  Perkins,  and  in  his 
attitude  toward  Lewellyn  Green,  who  at  the  age  of 
fifteen  sustains  the  combined  responsibilities  of  assis- 


68  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

tant  foreman,  type  distributor,  mailing  clerk,  printer's 
devil,  and  office  boy. 

Lewellyn  is  standing  on  a  chair  in  the  door  looking 
at  the  triple  parade  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd.  He 
also  is  coatless  and  collarless,  with  a  smudgy  face  and 
inky  hands  and  arms. 

I/EWELLYN 

Come  on,  Gene,  and  look.  The  Sons  and  Daughters 
of  Freedom  is  follerin'  the  show  band. 

EUGENE 

We  ain't  got  no  time  to  look  at  a  parade ;  we  got  to 
git  this  work  out. 

[He  takes  a  pile  of  handbills  off  the  press  and  puts 
them  on  a  table  at  the  right.  Lewellyn  cheers  the 
Sons  and  Daughters  with  the  crowd  and  joins  in  the 
cries  hailing  Skinner.  Some  cheer  Skinner,  others 
jeer.  One  voice  shouts:  "Hooray  for  Preston," 
and  several  cheer.  When  Skinner's  hack  has  passed, 
the  crowd  straggles  along  after  the  procession,  and 
the  sound  of  the  band  and  the  cheering  die  away  in 
the  distance. 

LEWELLYN  (coming  down  to  the  Gordon  press  and  run 
ning  off  some  business  cards)  Say,  don't  that  beat 
all?  The  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Freedom  marching, 
and  old  Skinner  taggin'  after  'em  all. 

EUGENE  (going  to  case,  taking  a  stick,  and  beginning 
to  set  type  from  copy  on  the  hook)  All  takin'  ad 
vantage  of  there  bein'  a  band  in  town. 

LEWELLYN 

I  '11  bet  it  made  the  manager  of  the  show  good  and 
mad. 


ACT  H]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  69 

[Ivy  Wilcox  enters,  dressed  in  the  semi-barbaric 
fashion  of  the  village  belle  whose  taste  has  full  sway. 
Her  millinery,  jewellery,  furbelows,  and  temperament 
are  all  agitated  by  the  music.  Her  hair  curlers  have 
resulted  in  a  huge  wave  drawn  over  an  abnormally 
high  pompadour  which  lifts  her  hat  into  a  perpen 
dicular  position.  She  carries  a  fan,  a  handbag,  and 
a  gayly  colored  parasol.  She  breezes  down  to  the 
corner  of  the  case  as  if  giving  Eugene  a  treat. 

IVY 

Hello,  Gene ! 

EUGENE  (sensible  that  it  is  a  treat  to  talk  to  such  a 
"  hummer  ")  Hello,  Ivy !  (He  comes  around  to  the 
front  of  the  case  and  leans  his  arm  on  it,  endeavoring 
to  make  himself  attractive  to  Ivy) 

IVY 

Was  n't  that  band  jest  elegant? 

EUGENE 

First  class. 

IVY 

I  'm  so  passionately  fond  of  music  that  I  jest  can't 
keep  my  feet  still  whenever  I  hear  a  band.      (They 
be'gin  flirting  with  their  eyes)     Comin'  to  the  enter 
tainment  at  the  Baptist  Church  next  Monday? 
EUGENE 

I  dunno.     You  goin'? 

IVY 

Well,  I  guess  so !  I  'm  goin'  to  give  three  recita 
tions  ;  one  in  costoom. 

EUGENE 

What  you  goin'  to  be? 

IVY 

The  Goddess  of  Liberty.     My  dress  is  goin'  to  be 


70  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

made  out  of  flags  and  I  'm  goin'  to  wear  a  cornicopy 

on  my  head. 
EUGENE  (genuinely  impressed) 

Say,  that  ought  to  be  fine. 
IVY 

Don't  tell  anybody  about  the  costoom.     It 's  goin' 

to  be  a  surprise.     I  'm  goin'  to  recite  the  "  Charge 

of  the  Light  Brigade." 
EUGENE  (familiarly  fingering  her  handbag) 

What  '11  you  give  me  to  go  ? 
IVY  (with  a  suppressed  giggle) 

If  a  certain  party  ain't  there,  I  '11  give  you  leave  to 

buy  me  ice  cream  to  the  refreshments. 
EUGENE  (realizing  that  he  has  a  rival) 

Is  that  all? 
IVY 

Well,  if  you  'd  rather  take  me  home  after  the  .  .  . 

(Catches  sight   of  Lewellyn  over  Gene's   shoulder. 

The  boy,  who  has  been  feeding  the  card  press,  has 

become  interested  in  the  conversation  and  has  come 

up    behind   Gene,    absorbed   in   their   talk)     Little 

pitchers  have  big  ears ! 
EUGENE  (turning  to  rebuke  him) 

Say,  Lewellyn,  you  just  tend  to  your  knittin'. 
IVY  (crossmg  over  to  the  left  centre,  Eugene  following) 

I  jest  stepped  in  to  leave  word  about  a  party  I  'm 

goin'  to  have  to-morrow  night. 
EUGENE 

I  '11  tell  Mrs.  Perkins  to  put  it  in  the  paper.    I  guess 

she  's  stepped  out  to  look  at  the  parade. 
IVY 

Say,   ain't   it   awful   the   way   she 's   gittin'   talked 

about? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  71 

EUGENE  {with  a  frown) 

Do  you  mean  .  .  .  about  .  .  .  about  the  hired  man? 

IVY 

Yeh-ah.  We  're  jest  pestered  to  death  with  folks 
runnin'  to  our  house. 

EUGENE 

To  your  house?    What  for? 

IVY 

'Cause  they  know  that  bein'  next  door  we  can  see 
and  hear  everything  that 's  goin'  on. 

EUGENE  (angrily) 
Oh! 

IVY  (thoroughly  enjoying  herself) 

The  queerest  thing  happened  yesterday.  He  .  .  . 
Nabal  they  call  him  .  .  .  ain't  that  the  outlandish- 
est  name?  Well,  he  was  makin'  some  kind  of  a  mess 
for  supper.  We  can  see  right  into  their  kitchen 
from  our  spare  room  .  .  .  and  Maw  and  me  was 
watchin'  him  put  in  onions  and  tomatoes  and  green 
peppers  into  some  of  the  awfullest  lookin'  things 
you  ever  saw. 

EUGENE 

What  was  it? 

IVY 

I  dunno ;  it  looked  like  a  lot  of  bleached  angleworms 
to  me. 

EUGENE 

Good  Lord! 
IVY 

Then,  as  we  stood  there  lookin',  he  came  straight  over 
to  our  window  with  the  disgustin'  stuff  and  handed 
Maw  a  bowl  of  it. 


72  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

EUGENE 

What  for? 

IVY 

He  said  that  we  had  taken  such  an  interest  in  the 
preparation  of  it,  he  'd  be  glad  to  know  if  it  met 
with  our  approval. 

EUGENE 

Why,  the  darned  cuss! 

IVY 

No  wonder  folks  is  talkin'.  .  .  .  (Eugene  is  dis 
tressed  by  her  revelations,  but  Ivy  is  full  of  her  own 
concerns  and  does  not  observe  it)  Oh,  Gene,  don't 
say  I  told  you,  but  the  Baptist  Church  is  goin'  to 
take  it  up. 
[Star  Skinner  enters  from  the  street. 

STAR 

Hello,  Ivy! 

IVY    (immediately   forgetting   Eugene's   presence   and 
greeting  Star  with  a  beaming  smile)     Hello,  Star! 
[Offended  at  Ivy's  sudden  defection,  Eugene  goes 
back  to  his  case  and  resumes  his  typesetting. 

STAR 

Lucille  ain't  here,  is  she? 

IVY  (realizing  that  he  is  not  pursuing  her) 
Don't  look  like  it. 

STAR  (bitterly  moody) 

I  suppose  now  that  play  actor 's  in  town  she  won't 
have  no  time  for  anybody  else. 

IVY 

Most  likely  she  wunt. 
STAR  (after  a  pause,  desperately) 

Say,  Ivy,  will  you  go  to  the  show  with  me  to-night? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  73 

IVY  (suddenly  coy) 

Why,  ain't  you  goin'  to  your  Paw's  meetin'? 
STAR 

Shoot  ...  no !    I  'm  goin'  to  that  darned  show  and 

see  if  Lucille  is  there. 
IVY   ( tempes  tuou^ly  ) 

Star  Skinner,  you  ain't  askin'  me  to  play  second 

fiddle,  are  you? 
STAR  {rising  to  the  situation  diplomatically') 

Why  no,  Ivy.  ...  I  like  you  .  .  .  you  know  that. 
IVY 

I  ain't  never  noticed  it  much  when  Lucille  Perkins 

was  around. 
STAR   (ready  to  end  negotiations) 

All  right !     (He  starts  for  the  door) 
IVY  (taking  fright) 

Oh,  Star,  wait  a  minute  ...     (In  a  sugary  tone)    I 

was  n't  exactly  refusin',  and  I  wanted  to  ask  you 

about  my  party  to-morrow  night.    Ain't  you  comin'  ? 
STAR 

Oh,  I  guess  so. 
EUGENE  (incensed  at  Star  because  of  Ivy's  fickleness) 

Say,  Star,  I  guess  your  old  man  'd  be  pretty  hot  if 

he  saw  you  in  here. 
STAR  (standing  beside  Ivy) 

Oh,  he  knows  I  ain't  interested  in  his  and  Mis'  Per 
kins'  fight. 

[Hiram,   clean  shaven,   wearing  a  white  linen  suit 

and  straw  hat,  with  a  market  basket  on  his  arm, 

inters  and  comes  leisurely  forward  directly  behind 

them.    Lewellyn  is  the  only  one  present  who  observes 

him. 


74  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

ivy  (with  gusto) 

Well,  it  looks  to  me  like  the  pot  callin'  the  kettle 
black  since  she  's  took  a  man  into  her  kitchen. 

HIRAM  (sweetly  to  Ivy) 

You  don't  approve,  I  take  it. 

[Ivy  falls  back  with  a  frightened  squeal,  staring  at 
him  as  if  at  an  apparition.  Star  is  startled,  but 
holds  his  ground.  He  and  Eugene  glare  disapprov 
ingly  at  Hiram.  There  is  an  embarrassing  pause. 
Eugene  takes  refuge  in  his  work.  Lewellyn,  who 
has  seen  the  situation,  laughs  explosively.  The 
others  frown  at  him. 

HIBAM 

Ah,  my  young  friend,  you  have  a  sense  of  humor,  I 
see.  (Another  deadly  pause;  Hiram  looks  pleasantly 
from  one  to  another)  I  hope  I  did  n't  interrupt  a 
conversation. 

STAE  (fidgeting  nervously  and  taking  refuge  in  bluster 
ing)  See  here  .  .  .  Mr.  ...  er  ...  a  ...  what 
ever  your  fool  name  is  ... 

HIEAM 

Quite  correct;   it  is  a  fool  name. 

STAE  (not  catching  the  drift,  but  determined  to  put 
him  down)  See  here,  I  don't  feel  like  .  .  . 

HIBAM 

Well,  if  you  don't  feel  like  it,  don't  do  it. 

STAB  (make's  a  desperate  effort  to  think  of  something 
that  will  overwhelm  Hiram;  can't  think  of  it,  and 
so  resorts  to  a  dignified  exit;  gets  nearly  to 
the  door,  turns  to  fire  a  parting  shot)  You  .  .  . 
you  .  .  .  (floundering)  you  think  you  're  smart, 
don't  you?  Come  on,  Ivy.  (Goes  quickly  outside  on 


ACT  n]  MARY   JANE'S   PA  75 

the  walk  and  waits  there,  having  beckoned  Ivy  to 

•follow) 
HIRAM   {turning  with  a  gentle  smile  of  enjoyment  to 

Ivy)     Ah,  Ivy  .  .  .  the  clinging  vine. 
IVY  (glaring  at  him) 

Miss   Wilcox   is    my   name  .  .  .  Miss    Ivy   Wilcox. 

(Flounces  up  to  the  door  and  joins  Star) 
HIRAM 

Thank  you  very  much. 
EUGENE   (does  not  relish  being  deserted  thus  by  the 

other  two,  and  is  also  visibly  jealous  as  Star  and 

Ivy  go  off  down  the  street  together)     Say,  Ivy,  you 

said  that  .  .  . 
HIRAM  (sees  the  situation  and  catches  Eugene's  jealous 

expression)     Ah,  and  thou  too,  Brutus? 
EUGENE  (irritably) 

My  name  is  Merryfield  .  .  .  Eugene  Merryfield. 
HIRAM 

I  see;   with  the  accent  on  the  "  Merry."     (Lewellyn 

snickers)     Ah,  our  young  friend  with  the  sense  of 

humor.     Come  here,  Mark  Twain. 
LEWELLYN  (immediately  sobered  and  resentful) 

My  name  's  Green.     Lewellyn  Green  's  my  name. 
HIRAM 

Very  appropriate,  I  'm  sure.     But  you  are  all  mis 
taken.     I  am  not  the  directory  man.     (His  eye  rests 

on  Eugene's  right  hand  as  he  picks  and  sets   the 

type  with  angry  emphasis) 
EUGENE   (glaring) 

Oh,  we  know  who  you  are. 
HIRAM 

That  is  very  pleasant.     I  may  feel,  then,  that  you 

take  an  interest  in  me,  as  it  were? 


76  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

EUGENE 

Say,  look  here,  you  .  .  . 

HIEAM 

Pardon  me,  but  you  are  spelling  a  word  incorrectly ; 
there  are  only  two  p's  in  "  grapple." 

EUGENE 

What? 

HIRAM 

You  've  got  three. 

EUGENE 

Who  's  stickin'  this  type? 

HIRAM 

You  are,  and  you  're  sticking  it  wrong. 

EUGENE 

Look  here  .  .  . 

HIRAM  (his  nerves  really  on  edge) 

Please,  only  two  p's,  to  oblige  me.     (Eugene  throws 
the  offending  piece  of  type  in  the  case  violently') 
Thank  you. 
[Barrett  Sheridan  enters  briskly  from  the  street. 

SHERIDAN    (to  Eugene) 

Are  those  "  To-night  "  dodgers  ready? 

LEWEI/LYN  (officiously,  before  Eugene  can  answer) 
Yes,  sir,  here  they  be. 

[He  grabs  the  pile  of  handbills  off  the  table  and  runs 
to  Sheridan  with  them.  Hiram  saunters  over  to  the 
desk  at  the  left  and  watches  Sheridan  unobserved. 

SHERIDAN  (reading  the  bill  on  top  of  the  pile) 

"  Opera  House  To-night.  The  Young  Romantic 
Actor  Barrett  Sheridan  in  his  New  York  Success, 
THE  OUTLAW,"  and  so  on  ..."  Set  of  parlor  fur 
niture  given  away  Saturday  night."  Yes,  that  will 
do.  They  should  have  been  done  this  morning. 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  77 

EUGENE  (importantly) 

This  is  our  busy  day ;   we  're  goin'  to  press. 
LEWELLYN  (not  stirring  from  Sheridan's  elbow) 

Say,  Mr.  Sheridan,  do  you  want  any  props  got? 
SHERIDAN  (smiling  understanding^) 

A  few,  I  guess. 

LEWELLYN 

I  '11  get  'em  from  our  house  if  you  '11  give  me  a  free 
pass. 

SHERIDAN 

All  right,  sonny;  come  up  to  the  theatre  after  you 
get  your  supper.  (Turns  to  go,  sees  Hiram,  and 
there  is  a  mutual  recognition)  Why  .  .  .  Evans 
.  .  .  you  dear  old  ink  slinger !  ( They  shake  hands) 

HIRAM  (pleasantly) 

And  you,  J.  B.  Tillottson,  Junior,  joy  of  the  publish 
ing  firm  of  ... 

SHERIDAN  (quickly  interrupting  and  handing  him  a 
dodger  off  the  pile)  Barrett  Sheridan,  at  your 
service. 

HIRAM  (glancing  over  handbill) 

Oh,  you  are  the  rising  young  American  star? 

SHERIDAN 

I  am  that  luminary. 
HIRAM 

And  you  are  illuminating  Gosport  to-night? 
SHERIDAN   (half  laughing) 

Yes. 

HIRAM 

How  have  the  mighty  fallen ! 

SHERIDAN 

Oh,  you  need  n't  look  at  it  that  way.  The  fact  is, 
I  can't  see  the  newspaper  business  and  never  could. 


78  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

The  governor  wants  me  to  go  into  the  financial  part 
of  the  paper,  but  I  simply  can't  see  it,  that 's  all. 
HIRAM 

So  you  are  devoting  yourself  to  art  and  giving  away 
a  set  of  parlor  furniture  every  Saturday  night. 

SHERIDAN 

I  'm  barnstorming,  but  I  'm  happy.     I  'd  rather  act 
than  be  the  biggest  editor  in  the  United  States. 
HIRAM 

Well,  you  'd  better  get  it  all  out  of  your  system. 
Is  your  show  as  bad  as  your  band? 

SHERIDAN 

You  come  to-night  and  see  for  yourself.  .  .  .  But 
how  about  yourself,  Evans?  You  lit  out  in  a  hurry. 
You  almost  broke  the  governor's  heart  when  you 
did  n't  finish  your  book.  What  made  you  quit  so 
suddenly? 

HIRAM  (slowly,  with  a  far-away  look) 
The  old  malady  .  .  .  the  wanderlust. 

SHERIDAN 

The  governor  said  if  you  'd  stick  to  it,  your  book 
would  have  been  a  best  seller  for  sure. 
HIRAM 

I  am  finishing  it  now. 

SHERIDAN 

Great!    Make  good  this  time,  old  man,  for  your  own 

sake.     Are  you  doing  anything  here? 
HIRAM   (smiling  whimsically) 

Yes. 
SHERIDAN  (incredulously) 

Here? 

HIRAM 

Yes. 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  79 

SHERIDAN 

For  Perkins  the  Printer? 
HIRAM 
Yes. 

SHERIDAN 

What  is  it? 

HIRAM 

I  'm  conducting  the  Household  Hints  department. 

SHERIDAN 

No !  That 's  great !  (  With  sudden  energy)  Well, 
I  must  get  my  actors  at  this  billing  or  I  won't  play 
to  my  light  bills  to-night.  So  long!  (Starts  off, 
turns  at  door,  and  speaks  to  Eugene)  Tell  Mrs. 
Perkins  that  I  '11  be  back  in  a  little  while  to  pay 
for  these  dodgers. 

[Sheridan  goes  out  and  for  a  moment  is  seen  passing 
the  bills  to  occasional  passers-by. 
Hiram  stands  m  smiling  meditation,  as  if  musing 
on  his  conversation  with  Sheridan.     Lewellyn  ob 
serves  his  smile  and  crosses  over  to  him. 

LEWELLYN   (confidentially) 
Did  he  give  you  a  free  pass? 

HIRAM  (rousing  himself) 

No  .  .  .  you  see,  I  did  n't  offer  to  run  props. 

LEWELLYN 

Say,  he  's  a  great  actor.    I  seen  him  play  the  "  Mer 
chant  of  Venus." 
HIRAM 
Who? 

LEWELLYN 

I  seen  him  play  the  "  Merchant  of  Venus  "  with  false 
whiskers. 


80  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM 

Shades   of  the   Immortal   Bard!      (He  picks   up  a 
magazine  from   the   counter   and  catches   Eugene's 
sullen,  watchful  eye}     Is  this  the  last  "Review"? 
EUGENE 

Yes. 

HIRAM 

Have  I  your  permission  to  look  it  over? 

EUGENE 

I  ain't  goin'  to  hinder  you. 
HIRAM 

For  this  relief  much  thanks.     (He  goes  up  to  the 

chair  beside  the  large  press  at  the  back  and  near  the 

right  wall;   sits  and  reads  the  magazine,  quite  serene 

under  Eugene's  inhospitality) 
EUGENE  (growls  at  him  inarticulately} 

Lewellyn,  hand  me   that  list  of  delegates  on  Mis' 

Perkinses  desk. 
LEWELLYN  (obeying  orders} 

Gee,  the  hotel  is  awful  crowded. 

EUGENE 

Guess  those  show  folks  will  have  to  put  up  at  the 
boarding-house. 

[Portia  comes  down  the  street  from  the  right  dressed 
in  a  different  gown  but  with  the  same  hat  as  in  the 
first  act.  As  she  gets  to  the  door  of  her  office,  Claud 
Whitcomb,  looking  just  as  in  the  previous  act,  saun 
ters  up  from  the  left,  greets  her  with  a  nod,  and 
passes  on.  Portia  stops  in  the  office  door  and  calls 
out  to  him. 
PORTIA 

Hello,  Claud! 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  81 

CLAUD 

Howdy  do,  Mis'  Perkins? 

PORTIA 

See  here,  Claud  Whitcomb,  I  want  to  speak  to  you. 

CLAUD   (stopping  reluctantly) 

I  'm  jest  goin'  down  to  the  deepo  to  see  the  .  .  . 

POETIA 

No,  you  don't.  You  just  walk  right  in  here.  (She 
comes  down  briskly,  enters  the  railing,  takes  off  her 
hat,  and  hangs  it  on  a  nail  in  the  wall) 

CLAUD  (coming  into  the  office) 

I  'd  hate  to  miss  the  two-fourteen  freight. 

PORTIA 

I  'm  sorry  to  interfere  with  your  dissipations,  Claud, 
but  I  want  to  ask  if  you  don't  think  it 's  time  that 
you  or  your  father  paid  something  for  the  "  Clar 
ion"  ?  You  're  a  year  and  a  half  behind. 

CLAUD  (coming  down  in  front  of  her  desk) 
Say,  I  ben  thinkin'  about  that. 

PORTIA 

I  'm  glad  you  got  as  far  as  thinking  about  it.  (She 
seats  herself  at  the  desk  and  begins  busily  to  arrange 
her  writing  material) 

CLAUD 

I  was  thinkin'  that  mebbe  you  'd  like  that  brindle 
bull  pup  that  we  ... 

PORTIA   (leaning  back  in  her  chair  suddenly) 

Bull  pup !  Will  you  tell  me  if  there  's  any  law  in 
this  state  against  paying  your  subscriptions  in 
money? 

CLAUD 

Why,  I  dunno. 


82  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PORTIA 

People  have  given  me  puppies,  kittens,  and  canaries 
enough  to  start  a  menagerie.  ...  I  've  taken  every 
thing,  from  house  plants  and  apples  to  wristlets  and 
bead  baskets. 

CLAUD 

Well,  great  Jehosophat,  I  never  heard  tell  of  payin' 
fer  a  paper  with  money. 

PORTIA  (her  temper  rising) 

You  get  money  for  your  wood,  don't  you? 

CLAUD 

Yes,  but  that 's  business. 

PORTIA 

Well,  what  do  you  call  this? 

CLAUD  (astonished  at  the  question) 

Why,  you  would  n't  call  runnin'  a  newspaper  reg'l&r 
business,  would  you? 

PORTIA 

I  certainly  would,  and  you  just  hustle  the  money 
along  for  your  paper  as  fast  as  ever  you  can.  (She 
begins  to  write) 

CLAUD  (thoroughly  upset  by  such  unheard  of  proceed 
ings)  Well,  by  Jinks,  I  ...  ((His  voice  dies  away 
as  he  saunters  up  to  the  door,  where  he  stops  to  think 
a  moment  and  then  turns,  facing  Portia)  Oh  say, 
how  are  you  sellin'  callin'  cards? 

PORTIA  (without  looking  up) 

Depends  upon  what  kind  you  want. 

CLAUD  (very  earnest  and,  coming  down  in  front  of  her 
desk  again)  Well,  Dave  Hanchett  's  got  some  purty 
ones  that  has  a  dove  holdin'  a  ribbon  in  its  bill, 
that 's  got  his  name  printed  on  it. 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  83 

PORTIA  (with  forced  patience  getting  a  box  of  sample 
cards  off  the  counter  and  putting  it  on  the  front  of 
her  desk  for  Claud  to  look  over)  Don't  know  that 
we  can  furnish  you  with  the  dove.  What 's  the 
matter  with  plain  white  cards? 

CLAUD  (examining  samples) 

Don't  seem  to  be  no  snap  to  'em  with  nothin'  but  the 
name  on  'em.  (Selects  one)  By  Jinks,  here  's  a 
purty  one,  with  a  bunch  of  forgit-me-nots !  Say, 
them  would  be  cute.  How  much  be  they? 

PORTIA  (without  looking  up) 
Oh,  sixty  cents  a  hundred. 

CLAUD 

Gosh,  I  don't  want  a  hundred. 

PORTIA   (looking  up) 

How  many  do  you  want? 

CLAUD 

Now,  let 's  see  .  .  .  (half  audibly  to  himself  counts 
off  on  his  fingers)  Sary,  Alviry,  Jenny,  Stell,  Maudy 
.  .  .  (To  Portia)  Oh,  'bout  eleven,  I  guess. 

PORTIA 

Can't  set  up  the  name  for  less  than  fifty  cents. 

CLAUD  (emits  a  low  whistle) 

Whew!  Well,  I  swan!  ...  I  got  a  new  white  vest, 
and  I  thought  I  Jd  make  some  New  Year's  calls  this 
year ;  but  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  give  it  up.  (Starts 
for  the  door) 

PORTIA 

New  Year's  calls  ?  .  .  .  Why,  what 's  your  rush  now? 

CLAUD 

I  thought  sein'  as  it 's  dull  season  fer  New  Year's 
cards  you  might  sell  'em  cheaper. 


84  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PORTIA  (grabbing  up  a  book  from  her  desk  and  threat 
ening  to  throw  it  at  him)     Go  on  away !    Get  out  of 
here !    Get  on  down  to  the  depot. 
[Claud  saunters  off  down  the  street  to  the  right. 

EUGENE 

That  Claud  Whitcomb's  enough  to  hector  the  life 
out  of  anybody. 

POETIA  (writing) 

Anyone  been  here  to  see  me? 

EUGENE 

No,  but  I  met  Skinner  at  the  post  office  and  he 
wanted  to  know  if  we  was  goin'  to  print  another 
attack  on  him  to-day. 

POETIA 

I  hope  you  told  him  we  were. 

EUGENE 

I  did. 

POETIA 

What  did  he  say? 
EUGENE  (seriously) 

You  bein'  a  woman,  '  tain't  fit  fer  you  to  hear. 
POETIA  (smiles  to  herself  with  satisfaction;    there  is 

a  pause)     You  're  setting  up  the  story  now,  are  n't 

you? 

EUGENE 

Yes. 

POETIA 

Lewellyn ! 
LEWELLYN  (looking  up  from  his  press) 

Yes,  ma'am! 
POETIA 

Go  over  to  Blanchard's  livery  barn  and  tell  them  to 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  85 

hitch  up  a  rig  for  me.  .  .  .  Single  buggy.  I  'm 
going  to  drive  over  to  the  factory  and  see  Jenny 
Miller. 

[Lewellyn  gets  his  hat  from  the  counter  and  leaves 
on  the  run.  During  the  progress  of  the  act,  village 
characters  pass  and  repass,  shopping  and  gossiping, 
along  the  street.  Barrett  Sheridan  and  Lucille  now 
meet  in  front  of  the  office,  and  are  immediately 
oblivious  to  everything  but  each  other.  Sheridan's 
manner  is  unmistakably  devoted. 

EUGENE  (apropos  of  the  Skmner  matter  and  stUl  settmg 
up  the  story)  This  is  Convention  day,  and  Skinner 
will  stop  at  nothing.  You  '11  git  yourself  into  .  .  . 

PORTIA  (in  a  sharp  tone,  but  still  good-naturedly) 
That  will  do,  Gene.  Are  you  on  salary  or  are  you 
just  working  for  wages?  If  it's  the  latter,  why 
you  'd  better  keep  quiet.  I  '11  be  very  —  ( turning 
toward  the  street  as  she  speaks,  her  voice  dies  away 
at  sight  of  Lucille  and  Sheridan;  she  rises  to  her 
feet,  stares  out  at  them  for  a  moment,  and  then 
calls)  Lucille!  .  .  .  (Lucille  affects  not  to  hear 
her.  Portia's  voice  grows  more  stern)  Lucille! 
(Lucille,  discomfited,  turns)  Lucille,  I  want  to  speak 
to  you. 

[The  girl,  flushed  and  annoyed  at  being  summoned  m 
this  way,  enters.  Sheridan  follows  her  after  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation  outside. 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  mother,  why  will  you  .  .  . 

PORTIA  (silencing  her  with  a  look) 
Gene,  have  you  got  that  set  up  yet? 

EUGENE 
Yes. 


86  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PORTIA 

Then  I  wish  you  M  step  around  to  Dr.  Love  joy's 
and  see  if  he  thinks  Mrs.  Tanner's  twins  are  going 
to  live.  The  readers  would  like  to  know. 
[Gene  gets  Ms  hat  from  the  table  at  the  right,  and 
with  a  comprehensive  look  at  Sheridan  goes  out  into 
the  street  and  disappears  to  the  left. 

LUCILLE   (almost  in  tears) 

I  think  it 's  a  shame  the  way  you  call  me  in,  mother, 
just  as  if  I  were  a  child. 

PORTIA 

That 's  all  you  are. 

SHERIDAN  (hat  in  hand,  makes  an  attempt  to  explain) 
Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Perkins,  but  if  you  will  allow 
me  ... 

PORTIA 

In  a  minute,  sir,  I  '11  talk  to  you.  (She  picks  up  a 
book  from  her  desk  and  gives  it  to  Lucille)  Lucille, 
take  this  book  over  to  the  minister's  wife,  will  you? 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  mother,  I  ... 

PORTIA 

That 's  a  good  girl.  It  may  help  her  to  forget  she 
is  a  minister's  wife. 

[Lucille,  very  ungraciously,  takes  the  book  and 
flounces  out  and  down  the  street,  exchanging  a  sig 
nificant  look  with  Sheridan  on  the  way,  which  Por 
tia  observes. 

SHERIDAN  (coming  down  to  the  desk  and  assuming  a 
business-like  tone)  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Perkins,  but 
I —  (She  meets  his  look  steadily,  sitting  back  in 
her  chair,  and  his  words  die  away;  suddenly  he  digs 
down  in  his  pocket  and  brings  up  three  silver  dollars) 


ACT  H]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  87 

I  want   to  pay   for  those  dodgers.      Three  dollars, 
isn't  it? 

PORTIA  (dropping  the  money  into  a  desk  drawer) 
Yes,  that 's  right.     Do  you  want  a  receipted  bill? 

SHERIDAN 

No,  it  is  n't  necessary.  (There  is  a  pause,  and  he 
finally  blurts  out)  Er  ...  ah  ...  er  ...  what 's 
the  matter  with  me  anyway,  Mrs.  Perkins? 
PORTIA  (looking  him  over  with  a  steady,  whimsical  ex 
pression,  amused  in  spite  of  herself  at  his  painful 
sincerity)  You  look  sound,  and  as  if  you  'd  stand 
without  hitching. 

SHERIDAN 

Oh,  you  don't  understand.     I  mean  .  .  . 
PORTIA  (with  sudden  and  deep  earnestness) 
Well,  young  man,  what  do  you  mean? 

SHERIDAN 

I  've  tried  every  way  to  make  you  like  me. 
PORTIA 

I  thought  you  had  tried  every  way  to  make  my 
daughter  like  you. 

SHERIDAN 

Why,  I  ... 

PORTIA 

It  was  an  easy  task,  I  'm  afraid. 

SHERIDAN 

Oh,  now  I  ... 

PORTIA 

Just  take  a  seat,  please. 

SHERIDAN  (thankful  for  this  courtesy,  takes  a  chair 
from  above  and  places  it  before  her  desk,  speaking 
very  eagerly)  Thank  you.  I  've  wanted  to  have  a 
talk  with  you  for  some  time.  It 's  been  difficult,  be- 


88  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  H 

cause  whenever  I  've  been  in  town  here,  you  have 
been  .  .  .  that  is,  you  were  ...  ah  ...  er  ... 
why  .  .  . 

PORTIA 

Antagonistic  ? 

SHERIDAN 

Well,  yes.     I  thought  so. 

PORTIA 

You  thought  rightly.     I  am. 

SHERIDAN 

But  won't  you  tell  me  why?     Of  course  I  know; 

you  think  I  'm  an  actor  and  ...  »• 

PORTIA 

Oh,  no,  I  don't ;  I  've  seen  you  play. 
SHERIDAN  (half  laughing,  half  nettled) 

Oh  now,  Mrs.  Perkins,  that 's  cruel ! 
PORTIA 

Perhaps,  and  considering  that  you  get  your  dodgers 

printed   here,    it 's    even   ungrateful.      But   it 's   no 

kindness  for  anyone  to  encourage  you  to  act. 

SHERIDAN 

Is  that  your  objection  to  me? 
PORTIA  (deliberately  and  as  if  turning  it  over  in  her 

mind)     No,  I  'm  not  sure  that  it  is  n't  in  your  favor. 

(Leaning  forward  and  growing  very  serious)     Now, 

I  Jm  going  to  be  very  plain  with  you.     Why  have 

you  tried  to  attract  my  daughter? 
SHERIDAN   (genuinely) 

Because  I  think  her  the  most  charming  girl  I  've 

ever  met! 
PORTIA 

So  you  had  to  come  to  this  town  to  find  a  charming 

girl?     You  're  a  city  man,  I  think. 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  89 

SHERIDAN  (with  enthusiasm) 

Yes,  and  all  the  more  reason  why  I  appreciate  Lu- 

cille's  simplicity. 
PORTIA  (her  voice  deep  and  thrilling) 

Do  you  love  her? 

SHERIDAN 

I  do,  Mrs.  Perkins,  and  I  knew  it  the  very  first  time 
I  met  her. 
PORTIA 

Well,  admitting  that  you  are  convinced  of  your  own 
sincerity,  don't  you  think  it  pretty  nervy  of  a  young 
fellow,  barnstorming  around  as  you  are,  to  offer 
your  attentions  and  expect  to  be  taken  seriously? 

SHERIDAN 

Why,  I  ... 

PORTIA 

Please  wait  a  moment.  You  see,  we  don't  really 
know  you.  You  come  to  our  little  town,  turn  all  the 
silly  girls'  heads,  and  then  pass  on,  and,  I  suppose, 
repeat  your  triumphs  in  the  very  next  place  you 
visit. 

SHERIDAN  (with  hurt  pride) 
Oh,  Mrs.  Perkins  .  .  . 

PORTIA  (her  business-like  manner  is  gone;  she  is  just 
an  anxious  mother)  We  don't  know  anything  about 
you,  you  see.  My  little  girl  is  poor  .  .  .  poor,  and 
cursed  with  ambition.  You  represent  to  her  the 
world  that  she  is  so  anxious  to  see.  Oh,  she  thinks 
she  loves  you,  I  know  that.  You  see,  I  've  been 
through  the  same  thing.  At  her  age  I  did  much  the 
same  sort  of  thing  that  Lucille  is  ready  to  do  now. 
.•  .  .  I  'm  saying  this  in  confidence,  Mr.  Sheridan, 
but  I  married  a  man  who  . 


90  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM  (rising  from  his  chair  and  coming  forward) 
Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  there  was  fresh 
fish  in  the  market  to-day? 

[It  is  plain  that  he  has  interrupted  to  prevent  eaves 
dropping  any  further.  His  face  is  rather  subdued 
in  expression,  as  if  he  knew  what  Portia  was  about 
to  say.  Sheridan  is  surprised,  and  Portia  aghast, 
as  he  stands  politely  waiting  for  orders  with  his  bas 
ket  on  one  arm  and  his  hat  in  his  other  hand. 

PORTIA   (rising) 

You  ...  I  did  not  .  .  . 

HIRAM  (in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  breaking  in  to  give 
her  a  chance  to  recover  herself)  You  did  not  give 
the  order,  but  I  thought  that  fish  might  appeal,  as 
it  is  Friday  and  "  custom  hath  made  it  a  property 
of  easiness  "  to  stand  it  once  a  week. 

PORTIA 

Why,  I  ... 

HIRAM  (with  a  bow  and  sweep  of  his  hat) 

I  'm  sure  I  'm  de  trop,  and  with  your  permission, 

ma'am,  I  '11  order  the  dinner. 

[He  goes  out  and  disappears  up  the  street  to  the 

left.     Portia  and  Sheridan  are  dumfounded  for  a 

moment. 

SHERIDAN  (in  a  maze  over  Hiram's  remarks  and  atti 
tude)  Is  he  ... 

PORTIA  (confused,  but  pulling  herself  together) 

My  .  .  .  my  .  .  .  hired  man.  .  .  .  (She  prevents 
Sheridan's  expressions  of  surprise  and  questionings, 
and  his  mind  flies  back  promptly  to  his  own  affairs) 
Just  one  word  more,  Mr.  Sheridan.  I  will  not  let 
Lucille  marry  a  man  who  has  no  assured  position  in 
life,  and  I  will  not  listen  to  her  putting  a  yoke 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  91 

around  her  neck  before  she  is  old  enough  to  know 
what  she  is  doing.  I  've  known  too  much  poverty 
and  disappointment  to  let  one  of  my  girls  invite  it 
without  fighting  to  save  her  from  herself. 

SHERIDAN 

But  I  ... 

PORTIA  {sternly) 

Keep  away  from  my  girl,  Mr.  Sheridan!  Give  her 
a  chance  to  get  her  senses  back. 

SHERIDAN  {standing,  facing  her,  and  speaking  quietly 
and  firmly)  I  appreciate  your  candor,  Mrs.  Per 
kins,  and  I  've  no  doubt  you  think  you  are  acting 
wisely.  I  'm  going  to  be  candid  with  you,  and  tell 
you  that  all  you  have  said  does  n't  change  my  feel 
ings  or  determination  one  bit. 

PORTIA 

Yes,  but  .  .  . 

SHERIDAN 

Pardon  me,  I  'm  not  going  to  argue  with  you.  I  see 
you  've  got  the  usual  prejudice  against  the  actor. 
But  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  'm  no  lady  killer, 
and  I  'm  not  so  unreliable  and  shallow  as  you  seem 
to  think.  I  'm  sorry  if  you  've  been  unhappy,  but 
because  your  marriage  turned  out  badly,  you  've  no 
right  to  put  every  man  under  suspicion  whom  you 
have  n't  known  since  his  baptism. 

PORTIA 

Mr.  Sheridan! 

SHERIDAN  {carried  away  by  his  own  viewpoint) 

Mrs.  Perkins,  I  want  to  marry  your  daughter.  I 
love  her  and  I  believe  she  loves  me.  I  'm  sure  that 
I  can  take  care  of  her.  I  'm  going  to  do  my  best  to 


92  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

get  her,  so  right  here  I  give  you  fair  warning.  Good 
day. 

[He  bows  curtly  and  strides  out  of  the  office  and 
down  the  street  to  the  right.  Portia  is  half  stunned 
by  his  "vehemence  and  stands  looking  after  him  a 
moment  with  a  slow  smile  gradually  breaking  over 
her  face.  Lewellyn  drives  up  a  horse  and  small 
open  buggy  and  pulls  up  in  front  of  the  shop. 

LEWELLYN 

Whoa !    All  right,  Mis'  Perkins ! 

[He  jumps   down  from  the   buggy  and  holds   the 

horse  by  the  bit.     Rome  Preston  enters  as  if  on  an 

important  mission. 
PORTIA  (getting  her  hat  and  putting  it  on) 

Yes,  I  'm  coming. 
PRESTON 

Good  afternoon,  Portia! 
PORTIA 

Glad  to  see  you !     What 's  your  news  ?     Something 

for  us? 
PRESTON  (very  gravely) 

Are  you  determined  to  print  that  Miller  story? 
PORTIA 

It 's  all  set  up  and  will  be  in  to-day's  issue. 
PRESTON 

Skinner  will  retaliate. 
PORTIA 

Let  him.     Why,  do  you  know  he  has  had  hundreds 

and  hundreds  of  dollars'  worth  of  produce  off  the 

Miller  farm  .  .  .  old  Mrs.   Miller  thinking  it  was 

taken  as   interest  on  the   mortgage.      Skinner  had 

the  best  of  everything  that  grew  on  the  place,  never 


ACT  11]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  93 

gave  a  receipt,  and  last  spring  foreclosed  for  five 

years'  interest. 
PRESTON 

What  a  confiding  dupe  old  Mrs.  Miller  was ! 
PORTIA 

That  will  only  make  the  voters  all  the  more  dis 
gusted  with  Skinner.     I  'm  going  up  to  the  knitting 

factory  now  to  get  Jenny  Miller's  affidavit.     Come 

along,  I  need  a  notary. 
PRESTON 

Well,  hardly! 
PORTIA  (starting  up  to  the  door  with  a  laugh) 

All  right,  I  '11  take  old  Dobbs  then. 
PRESTON   (detaining  her  with  a  gesture) 

I  wish  you  would  n't  print  this  thing. 
PORTIA 

The  people  ought  to  know  what  Skinner  is. 
PRESTON  (earnestly) 

It  is  n't  Skinner  I  'm  thinking  of. 
PORTIA 

Who  are  you  thinking  of. 
PRESTON  (gravely) 

You. 

PORTIA 

Me? 

PRESTON 

Yes. 
PORTIA  (turning  the  situation  over  in  her  mmd) 

He  can  use  his  influence  with  the  bank,  but  he  can't 

say  anything  against  me. 
PRESTON 

A  month  ago  he  could  n't,  but  sinca  you  've  taken 

that  fellow  to  work  for  you  .  .  . 


94  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PORTIA  (realizing  his  whole  meaning) 

Oh!     (There  is  a  pause  as  she  ponders  his  words) 

You  never  questioned  my  actions. 
PRESTON 

No,  and  yet  .  .  . 
PORTIA 

And  yet  you  don't  approve? 
PRESTON 

It  is,  to  say  the  least,  unconventional. 
PORTIA  (smiling) 

He  's  a  good  cook. 

PRESTON 

Yes,  but  who  is  he? 
PORTIA  (is  about  to  tell  him) 

He  ...  he  is  ...   (Changes  her  mind)     I  '11  tell 

you  after  the  nomination, 

[Eugene  enters  from  the  street,  whistling. 
PORTIA 

Now,  Gene,  set  up  those  locals.     (Gets  pad  from  the 

desk,  tears  off  the  top  sheet,  and  hands  it  to  him) 

Set  up  whatever  Line  Watkins  brings  in,  too. 
EUGENE 

All  right.     Dr.  Lovejoy  says  both  the  Tanner  twins 

stood  a  good  chance  of  livin'  till  they  was  baptized. 
PORTIA 

How's  that? 

EUGENE 

Mrs.    Tanner    named    'em    Alphonso    De  Loss    and 
Alonzo  De  Lacy. 
PORTIA 
Good! 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  95 

EUGENE 

Well,  Alphonso  De  Loss  is  all  right,  but  Alonzo  De 
Lacy  quit  thrivin'  the  minnit  he  heard  his  name. 

PORTIA 

No  wonder.      (Laughing)      Well,  good-bye,  Rome. 
I  can't  change  my  programme  now.     So  long. 
[She  goes  out  and  gets  into  the  buggy  and  drives 
off.     Lewellyn  furtively  hitches  on  behind.     Eugene 
puts  the  locals  on  the  hook  and  sets  them  up. 

EUGENE 

How  do  things  look  for  your  nomination,  Mr.  Pres 
ton? 

PRESTON  (rousing  himself  from  a  perplexed  reverie) 
I  'm  not  prophesying,  Gene. 

EUGENE 

Just  as  well,  I  guess.  You  want  to  look  out  fer  old 
Skinner.  If  spendin'  money  will  do  it,  old  money 
bags  will  git  there. 

[Miss  Faxon  enters  like  a  full-rigged  ship  m  the 
paraphernalia  of  her  Order,  with  cocked  hat,  sash, 
badge,  and  wand. 

EUGENE  (gasps  as  he  catches  sight  of  her) 
Holy  smoke! 

PRESTON  (surveying  her  with  a  smile  as  she  takes  up  an 
effective  position  between  Eugene  and  himself)  Well, 
Miss  Faxon,  your  Order  seems  to  be  waking  things 
up  to-day.  Oh,  and  you  're  an  officer,  I  see. 

MISS  FAXON  (with  a  stiffness  befitting  her  dignity) 
Yes,  sir,  I  'm  a  Past  Noble  Grand. 

PRESTON 

Oh,  indeed ! 

HISS    FAXON 

What  did  you  think  of  our  parade? 


96  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PRESTON 

Very  impressive,  very. 
MISS  FAXON 

Guess  we  stepped  it  off  about  as  lively  as  them  show 

folks  did. 
PRESTON 

Undoubtedly ! 

MISS    FAXON 

Too  bad  you  ain't  a  member  of  the  Sons  and  Daugh 
ters  of  Freedom,  Mr.  Preston.     It 's  bound  to  tell 
against  you  in  politics. 
PRESTON  (assuming  concern) 
Do  you  think  so? 

MISS    FAXON 

Jest  as  sure  as  you  're  born. 

[A  rickety  little  two-seated,  covered  conveyance 
known  as  the  "  bus  "  drives  up,  drawn  by  an  old 
gray  horse  and  driven  by  Line  Watkins.  In  the 
rear  are  two  passengers  with  luggage.  On  the  front 
seat  beside  Line  stands  a  small  steamer  trunk  on  end. 
Line  still  wears  the  fur  coat,  but  carries  a  palm- 
leaf  fan. 

LINC 
Whoa! 

PRESTON  (continuing  his  defence  to  Miss  Faxon) 
I'll  have  to  think  about  joining  your  Order. 

MISS  FAXON 

Now  you're  talkin'!  (Sees  Line,  who  has  entered, 
dripping  with  perspiration  and  fanning  himself  vig 
orously)  Well,  Line  Watkins,  if  it  ain't  enough 
to  give  a  body  sunstroke  to  look  at  you.  What  on 
airth  are  you  wearin'  that  thing  yet  fer? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  97 

LINC 

I  'm  skeered  to  take  it  off  now.     It  might  throw  me 

into  lung  fever.     It  5s  takin'  my  fat  off  ten  pound 

a  week. 
EUGENE  (working  at  his  case) 

Figgerin'  at  that  rate,  Line,  by  the  time  cold  weather 

sets  in,  you  '11  be  purty  nigh  a  fairy. 
LJNC 

I  got  a  postal  from  the  owner  sayin5  he  *d  be  here 

in  ten  days  and  git  his  coat. 
EUGENE 

What '11  you  do  then? 
LINC 

I  dunno,  unless  I  taper  off  on  my  ulster. 

PASSENGER  IN  BUS 

See  here,  driver,  are  you  going  to  make  that  train? 
LINC  (signing  him  to  be  patient) 

You  jest  hold  yer  bosses.  (Turning  to  those  in  the 
shop)  Dunno  but  I  got  to  give  up  bus  drivin',  or 
else  quit  my  job  on  this  here  newspaper. 

MISS    FAXON 

Well,  I  guess  the  quicker  you  give  up  writin'  fer  this 

here  newspaper,  the  higher  you  '11  be  thought  of  in 

Gosport. 

[Eugene  and  Preston  are  concerned  immediately. 
LINC  (in  a  militant  tone) 

Jest  explain  that  last  remark,  will  you,  Miss  Faxon? 
MISS  FAXON 

It  don't  need  much  explainin'.    I  '11  jest  say  that,  as 

a  business  woman,  I  came  here  to  take  my  ad.  out 

of  the  "  Clarion." 

EUGENE 

What? 


98  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

MISS  FAXON  (with  conscious  heroism) 

And  as  a  milliner,  I  take  a  firm  stand  against  im 
morality. 

PRESTON 
What? 

MISS  FAXON  (volume  and  venom  increasing) 

And  as  an  officer  of  the  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Free 
dom,  I  came  to  say  that  we  've  blackballed  her. 

ALL   THE    MEN 

What? 

MISS  FAXON  (in  a  raging  fit  of  spite) 

Now  it  ain't  no  use  your  chippin'  in,  Rome  Preston. 
Everybody  knows  how  she  's  fit  fer  you  in  the  "  Clar 
ion,"  and  naturally  you  ain't  goin'  to  turn  against 
her  till  election  time  's  over.  (  With  tremendous  em 
phasis)  But  let  me  tell  you,  there  ain't  no  lone 
womern  in  this  here  town  kin  keep  a  man  hired  girl. 

EUGENE  (the  first  to  recover  after  a  shocked  silence) 
But  look  here,  Miss  Faxon,  you  .  .  . 

MISS  FAXON  (pounding  with  her  wand  to  regain  the 
floor)  You  jest  take  that  "  Refined  Millinery  "  ad. 
right  out,  Gene  Merryfield,  and  tell  Mis'  Perkins 
that  she  's  flew  in  the  face  of  Providence  and  Gosport 
public  opinion,  and  respectable  people  ain't  goin'  to 
countenance  it  ...  especially  a  Past  Noble  Grand. 
(She  sweeps  in  her  proud  consciousness  of  virtue  up 
to  the  door,  the  three  men  dumfounded  and  follow 
ing  her  with  their  eyes;  at  the  door  she  turns  again 
for  a  parting  shot)  As  fer  you,  Rome  Preston,  all 
I  got  to  say  is:  Hooray  fer  Skinner!  (She  marches 
off  down  the  street) 

LINC 

Don't  that  womern  beat  the  Dutch? 


ACT  H]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  99 

PASSENGER  (startmg  to  leave  the  bus  with  his  bag  and 
foot  it  to  the  depot)     Now  look  here,  driver  .  .  . 

LINC   (rushing  up,  grabbing  him,   and  thrusting  him 
back  in  the  bus,  reassuring  him  roughly)     Here  now, 
here,   I  '11   git  you   there   in   time.      I  'm  with  you 
right  now. 
\The  passenger  permits  himself  to  be  persuaded. 

LINC  (comes  back  to  the  door) 

Say,  Gene,  Miss  Faxon  knocked  them  items  clean 
out  of  my  head.  .  .  .  Oh  yes !  Melon  thieves  in 
Simpson's  patch  last  night.  Lige  shot  'em  full  of 
rock  salt.  (Eugene  writes;  Line  goes  to  his  vehicle, 
and  as  his  foot  is  on  the  wheel  ready  to  mount,  he 
recalls  another  vital  piece  of  information)  The  Five 
and  Ten  Cent  Store  is  goin'  to  move  next  to  the 
Barber  Shop.  (Pulls  himself  up  on  his  seat  and 
gathers  up  the  lines)  Here's  another!  That  den 
tist  from  Terre  Haute  is  at  the  hotel  fer  a  week  and 
Clint  Webb  's  goin'  to  have  a  new  upper  set.  Git  ap. 
[He  clucks  to  the  horse,  slaps  it  with  the  lines,  and 
drives  off. 

Preston  has  been  thoughtfully  considering  the  Miss 
Faxon  episode  and  is  very  much  disturbed  by  it.  He 
crosses  to  Eugene  at  the  case. 

PRESTON 

Gene,  this  is  awful. 

EUGENE 

It 's  too  bad,  but  what  can  you  say  ?     The  man  is 
there.      (Hotly)      And  say,  do  you  know,  he  had 
the  cheek  to  try  and  tell  me  how  to  set  up  copy. 
PRESTON   (interested) 
He  did? 


100  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

EUGENE 

Yes,  me!     What  do  you  think  of  him? 
PRESTON  (after  a  moment's  thought) 

Gene,  Mrs.  Perkins  must  not  print  the  Miller  story. 
EUGENE 

There  's  no  use  talkin'  to  her. 
PRESTON  (looking  meaningly  into  Gene's  face) 

I  know  it  ...  so  I  'm  talking  to  you. 

EUGENE    (puzzled) 

Me? 

PRESTON 

Yes,  Gene;   that  story  must  be  taken  out. 

EUGENE 

She  'd  set  it  up  herself. 

PRESTON  (paces  the  floor  for  a  moment;  a  thought 
strikes  him  and  he  goes  up  to  the  large  press  and 
looks  at  it  as  if  trying  to  master  its  details) 
Could  n't  you  remove  a  bolt  or  a  screw  or  something 
that  would  destroy  the  connection  between  the  engine 
and  the  press? 

EUGENE  (reading  his  thought) 
By  Gosh,  you  've  hit  it. 

PRESTON 

That  would  leave  the  press  without  power  and  make 
it  impossible  to  get  the  paper  out  to-day. 

EUGENE 

But  see  here,  I  can't  do  that.     I  'd  lose  my  job. 

PRESTON 

I  '11  take  the  responsibility. 

EUGENE  (tempted,  but  resisting) 

No  ...  no  ...  I  won't  do  it.  ...  I  've  got  the 
old  folks  dependin'  on  me.  I  ain't  goin'  to  monkey 
with  that  press  and  git  fired.  No  siree ! 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  101 

PRESTON 

Will  you  do  this?  Will  you  get  out  of  here  for  an 
hour? 

EUGENE 

Why  ...  do  you  mean  .  .  .   ? 

PRESTON 

Never  mind  what  I  mean  .  .  .  will  you  go? 

EUGENE  (with  a  wink  of  entire  apprehension) 

Say  .  .  .  I  'm  on.  (Gets  his  hat  from  the  table  and 
starts  to  go;  as  an  after-thought  he  gets  a  wrench 
from  the  shelf  and  puts  it  on  the  form-table  with  an 
eloquent  look  and  gesture)  Here 's  the  monkey 
wrench. 

PRESTON  (trying  to  pick  out  the  story  on  the  form) 
Thanks. 

EUGENE 

Mr.  Preston,  this  will  cost  you  your  nomination. 

PRESTON 

I  know  the  cost,  but  it 's  cheap  at  the  price. 

EUGENE 

Gee,  I  hate  to  see  you  lose! 
PRESTON  (unable  to  read  the  form) 

Gene,  where  is  the  Miller  story? 
EUGENE  (going  over  and  laying  his  finger  on  it) 

In  the  form,  here. 
PRESTON 

I  want  to  upset  it. 
EUGENE   (with  a  smuef  at  his  ignorance  of  printer's 

terms)     Huh,  pi  it,  you  mean. 
PRESTON 

Do  I? 

EUGENE 

Yes.     (Tipping    him    off)     Now    that    form    ain't 


102  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  H 

locked.  Pi  it  if  you  want  to,  but  don't  let  me  see 
you  do  it.  (He  starts  for  the  door) 

PRESTON  (detaining  him) 

Here,  Gene.  (Takes  money  from  his  pocket  and 
offers  him  a  bill) 

EUGENE  (very  nearly  offended) 

Keep  yer  money.  It 's  fer  her  good  name.  I 
could  n't  take  money  fer  that. 

[He  goes  out.  Preston  closes  the  doors,  then  works 
with  the  monkey  wrench  until  he  has  removed  the 
starting-wheel,  whereupon  he  looks  about  for  a  place 
to  conceal  it.  Finally  he  hides  it  in  the  bag  of  waste 
paper  and  trimmings  on  the  floor  near  the  door. 
He  drops  the  wrench  on  the  floor  by  the  press,  goes 
down  to  the  form-table,  picks  up  the  mallet  lying 
on  it,  and  pies  a  portion  of  the  type,  a  lot  of  which 
falls  to  the  floor.  He  crosses  to  Portia's  desk  to 
get  his  hat  and  is  ready  to  leave  when  the  doors  open 
and  Hiram,  curious  at  finding  the  doors  closed, 
enters  with  his  basket  on  his  arm.  It  is  now  filled 
with  vegetables,  etc.  Hiram's  eyes  roam  over  the 
office,  alighting  on  Preston;  he  is  sensible  of  the 
unusual  fact  of  his  presence  and  the  absence  of  the 
people  attached  to  the  office.  Preston  is  annoyed 
at  the  interruption.  The  men  face  each  other  in 
silence  for  a  momefnt,  as  if  each  were  taking  the 
other's  measure.  Preston  is  aggressive,  cold,  antag 
onistic,  and  somewhat  superior.  Hiram  is  calm, 
serene,  and  cynical. 

PRESTON 

You  are  looking  for  .  .  . 

HIRAM 

An  honest  man  .  .  .  like  our  old  friend  Diogenes; 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  103 

and  if  what  the  "  Clarion  "  says  of  you  is  true,  my 
search  is  ended.  This  is  Mr.  Preston,  I  believe. 

PRESTON  (nettled  at  the  other's  use  of  personalities) 
That 's  my  name.     I  understand  that  you  are  .  .  . 

HIRAM  (pointing  to  his  basket  of  groceries,  etc.) 

Behold  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  my  guild.  I 
am  attached  to  the  Perkins  household. 

PRESTON 

I  must  say  that  you  employ  rather  unusual  language 
for  a  cook  or  butler,  or  whatever  you  style  yourself. 

HIRAM 

A  philosopher  perhaps.  I  obey  Joubert,  who  bids 
us  "  in  the  commerce  of  speech,  use  only  coin  of 
gold  and  silver." 

PRESTON  (impatient  at  this  exhibition  of  learning) 
Now  see  here,  my  man  .  .  .  (Hiram's  eyes  light  up 
in  a  way  that  immediately  causes  Preston  to  feel  that 
the  expression  of  patronage1  "was  somehow  inappro 
priate;  consequently  he  becomes  rather  conscious 
and  a  bit  off  his  poise)  A  ...  er  ...  a  ...  I 
don't  know  your  name. 

HIRAM  (with  perfect  serenity) 

It  is  of  no  consequence  when  one  is  a  philosopher 
.  .  .  and  cooks. 

PRESTON  (once  more  on  the  aggressive) 

It  occurs  to  me  as  rather  strange  that  a  man  of 
your  seeming  ability  should  hire  out  as  a  cook. 

HIRAM  (returning  his  scrutiny  with  a  look  both  mild 
and  appraising)  Does  it?  It  occurs  to  me  as 
strange  that  a  man  of  your  seeming  ability  should 
hire  out  as  a  politician. 

PRESTON  (feeling  the  sting) 
You  mean  . 


104  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM 

That  in  the  end  we  are  both  servants.  I  of  an 
individual,  you  of  a  collection  of  individuals.  I 
may  serve  my  employer  to  her  satisfaction;  your 
task  is  not  so  easy. 

PEESTON  (unconsciously  defending  himself) 
Not  an  easy  task,  perhaps,  but  necessary. 

HIEAM 

I  perceive  that  you  read  your  Virgil,  and  say  with 
him :  "  The  noblest  motive  is  the  public  good." 

PEESTON  (quite  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say  or  do) 
Very  possible. 

HIEAM  (enjoying  himself  thoroughly) 

In  my  position,  my  perquisites  are  the  cheese  par 
ings  and  chicken  wings  .  .  .  yours,  a  block  of  stock 
and  the  lobbyists'  small  change.  My  associates  are 
the  grocer,  the  butcher,  and  the  fishman.  .  .  . 
Yours,  the  lawyers,  the  politicians,  and  the  cor 
porations.  Comparatively,  the  fishman  looms  large. 
.  .  .  don't  you  think  so? 

PEESTON 

I  think  you  're  damned  impertinent. 

HIEAM  (with  a  slight  apologetic  bow) 

I  beg  your  pardon.  At  times  the  philosopher  quite 
submerges  the  cook. 

PEESTON 
Evidently. 

HIEAM  (exhibiting  the  contents  of  his  basket) 

Could  I  interest  you  in  vegetables,  and  would  you 
care  to  know  that  the  hens  are  not  laying  well  this 
week? 

PEESTON   (losing  his  temper,  but  determined  to  carry 
his  point)     I  see  that  for  some  reason  you  are  mak- 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  105 

ing  light  of  your  position  and  mine,  but  you  appear 
to  be  something  of  a  man  underneath  all  this  non 
sense,  and  it  is  to  your  manhood  that  I  wish  to 
appeal. 

HIRAM 

I  am  Burke's  very  definition :  "  Man  is  an  animal 
that  cooks  his  food." 

PRESTON  (irritably) 

Just  let  up  on  your  quotations,  will  you?  And  let 
me  tell  you  that  if  you  wish  to  do  Mrs.  Perkins  a 
favor,  you  will  leave  Gosport. 

HIRAM 
Eh? 

PRESTON 

Mrs.  Perkins  is  a  widow ;  has  no  man  to  protect  her. 
HIRAM 

It  appears  there  is  an  aspirant  to  that  honor. 
PRESTON 

You  don't  understand. 
HIRAM 

I  think  I  am  beginning  to. 
PRESTON 

In  the  cities  it  may  be  the  proper  thing  for  a  woman 

to    keep    a    man-servant,    but    in    Gosport  .  .  .  er 

...  a  ... 
HIRAM  (sweetly) 

Well? 

PRESTON 

It  won't  do. 
HIRAM    (mildly  inquiring) 

Gosport  thinks  it  improper? 
PRESTON 

Very  much  so. 


106  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM  (as  if  receiving  great  light") 
Ah! 

PRESTON 

Now  that  you  know  the  circumstances,  I  'm  sure  you 
will  see  that  the  only  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  leave 
town. 

HIRAM 

And  would  that  fully  restore  Mrs.  Perkins  to  the 
arms  of  Gosport  society? 

PRESTON  (irritated  at  the  satire) 

There  is  no  need  of  putting  such  an  extreme  con 
struction  upon  what  I  have  said,  but  it  would  serve 
her  best  interests. 

HIRAM 

Then  I  think  you  may  count  upon  my  early  dis 
appearance. 

PRESTON 
Good! 

HIRAM 

However,  I  shall  lay  the  case  before  Mrs.  Perkins. 
If  she  prefers  to  consider  the  economy  of  her  diges 
tive  organs  in  preference  to  the  social  bias  of  Gos 
port,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  leave.  If,  however,  she 
is  resigned  to  having  her  beefsteak  pounded  and 
fried  by  the  local  hired  girl,  I  will  .  .  .  (He  makes 
a  gesture  expressive  of  departure) 

PRESTON 

Yes,  but  — 

HIRAM  (sweetly,  but  firmly) 

I  hardly  think  you  can  ask  more  even  of  a  philoso 
pher. 

[He  strolls  over  to  the  case  and  puts  his  basket  on 
the  floor.  Preston  is  dissatisfied  and  mystified. 


ACT  n]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  107 

PRESTON 

Perhaps  not.  Still  I  hope  you  will  do  the  manly 
thing. 

[During  the  last  of  this  scene  Mary  Jane,  dressed  in 
her  best  to  see  the  parade,  with  bright  hair  ribbons 
and  her  Sunday  hat,  meets  Sheridan  in  front  of  the 
office.  He  gives  her  a  note,  which  she  puts  m  her 
pocket.  Hiram  observes  this  as  he  faces  the  door 
and  puts  down  his  basket.  Sheridan  passes  on  and 
Mary  Jane  enters  the  office,  meeting  Preston  as  he 
is  leaving. 

MARY  JANE 

Hello! 

PRESTON  (greeting  her  affectionately) 
Hello,  Girlie!  ' 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  Mr.  Preston,  did  you  hear  the  band? 
PRESTON 

Yes. 

MARY  JANE 

Was  n't  it  just  beautiful? 

PRESTON 

Very  fine. 
MARY  JANE  (rapturously) 

And  the  Sons  and  Daughters  of  Freedom  marching, 

and  ...  oh,   everything!     It  was   just   'most  like 

Fair  time,  was  n't  it  ? 
PRESTON 

Almost. 
MARY  JANE  (turning  her  beaming  face  on  Hiram) 

Did  you  hear  it,  Nabal? 
HIRAM  (with  resignation) 

I  did. 


108  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

PEESTON  (speaking  across  Mary  Jane  to  Hiram) 

I  am  obliged  to  you. 

[He  meets  Lewellyn  m  the  doorway,  the  latter  having 

sauntered  back  to  work. 
LEWELLYN  (as  Preston  passes  him  and  goes  down  the 

street)     Hooray  for  Preston!     (Enters  and  speaks, 

after  receiving  the  pleasant  thrill  occasioned  by  Mary 

Jane's  presence)     Hello,  Mary  Jane! 

MARY  JANE 

Hello,  Lewellyn! 

[She  goes  to  her  mother's  desk  and  begins  scribbling 

aimlessly.     Hiram  sees  the  pi  on  the  table  and  the 

floor  and  examines  it. 
HIRAM 

Lewellyn  Green,  have  you  been  meddling  with  this? 
LEWELLYN  (sulkily  going  up  to  the  form-table) 

That  ain't  none  of  your  business. 
HIRAM  (seizes  him  by  the  collar  and  almost  sticks  his 

nose  on  the  form  and  into  the  pi)    Did  you  do  that? 

LEWELLYN 

Lemme  go! 

HIRAM  (angrily  and  retaining  his  grip) 
Did  you  do  it? 

LEWELLYN 

Naw,  I  did  n't. 
HIRAM  (shaking  him) 

Speak  the  truth  now. 
LEWELLYN  (breaking  away  and  backing  off) 

Naw,  I  tell  you.     I  ain't  been  inside  the  office  since 

Mis'  Perkins  sent  me  after  the  rig. 
HIRAM 

Who  was  here  when  you  left? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  109 

LEWELLYN 

Gene   and  Mr.    Preston.      Say,   this   ain't  none   of 
your  business.     You  ain't  the  boss  here. 
[Hiram  is  rapidly  thinking  and  paying  no  attention 
to  him. 

MARY  JANE 

Lewellyn  Green,  don't  you  ever  speak  like  that  to 
Nabal  again.  Never  as  long  as  you  live.  {She 
resumes  her  sketching) 

HIRAM  (rousing  himself) 

He  's  right.  It  is  not  my  business.  .  .  .  (Stops  in 
front  of  the  case  and  sees  the  pied  story  on  the 
hook)  And  yet  .  .  .  hm.  (Suddenly  he  peels  off 
his  coat,  rolls  up  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt,  takes  the 
stick,  and  begins  expertly  to  set  up  the  story) 

LEWELLYN  (finding  his  voice  at  last,  after  having 
watched  Hiram  in  open-mouthed  astonishment)  See 
here,  you  ain't  got  no  right  to  mess  in  that  case. 
(Hiram  pays  no  attention,  but  works  on)  Mis'  Per 
kins,  Mis'  Perkins ! 

[He  runs  off  and  down  the  street  for  help.  Mary 
Jane  runs  up  to  the  door  and  shouts  after  him. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  you  mean  thing!  Lewellyn  Green,  don't  you 
dare!  (Turning  to  Hiram)  Ain't  he  awful? 
(Comes  down  and  stands  at  the  end  of  the  case, 
watching  Hiram  work)  My,  you  know  how  to  set 
type,  don't  you? 
HIRAM 

I  used  to. 

MARY  JANE 

You  can  stick  it  a  lot  faster  than  Gene. 


110  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM 

And  that 's  not  much  of  a  compliment,  either. 
MARY  JANE  (climbing  up  on  the  stool  in  front  of  the 

case)     How  did  you  learn  to  do  so  many  things? 
HIRAM 

Perhaps  I  had  a  fairy  godmother,  and  perhaps  I  'm 

a  Jack  of  all  trades  and  master  of  none. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  yes  you  are.     You  're  a  splendid  cook ;    and  I 
know  you  can  write  about  things. 
HIRAM  (stopping  his  work  suddenly) 
How  did  you  know  that? 

MARY  JANE 

Why,  sometimes  I  wake  up  in  the  night  and  I  see 
the  light  shining  from  your  room ;  and  two  or  three 
times  I  listened  at  the  crack  of  the  door,  and  I  heard 
the  pencil  going  over  the  paper  .  .  .  oh,  so  fast! 
.  .  .  my,  just  like  anything. 

HIRAM 

So  I  'm  caught  in  the  act. 

MARY  JANE 

What  are  you  writing?     A  cook  book? 
HIRAM  (falling  into  her  point  of  view  sympathetically) 
No.     If  I  let  you  know,  you  won't  tell  anyone? 

MARY   JANE 

Cross  my  heart,  I  won't. 

HIRAM 

I  'm  writing  a  book  about  all  the  places  governed 
by  the  United  States. 

MARY   JANE 

Goodness!  How  did  you  ever  find  out  about  them 
all? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  111 

HIRAM 

I  went  to  all  the  places  to  see  what  they  had  to  eat, 

and  in  that  way  I  found  out  other  things  that  are 

not  so  important. 
MARY  JANE  (with  conviction) 

Of  course  eating  is  more  important  than  anything 

else. 
HIRAM 

Decidedly. 
MARY  JANE  (inspired) 

Oh    say,    will    you   make    rice    fritters    for    supper 

to-night?     I  just  love  them! 
HIRAM 

I  '11  have  to  teach  you  to  make  them,  so  that  when 

I  've  gone  away  .  .  . 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  please  don't  go  away  .  .  .  you  're  so  chummy. 
HIRAM 
Am  I? 

MARY  JANE 

Yes,  and  you  wait  on  us  just  like  I  've  read  about  in 
Lucille's  novels,  and  you  talk  just  like  a  gentleman, 
and  .  .  . 

HIRAM  (suddenly  serious,  stops  typesetting) 
Like  a  gentleman?    How  do  you  mean? 

MARY  JANE 

Why,  you  use  good  grammar  and  lots  of  big  words 
.  .  .  and  you  don't  get  excited  when  you  talk  .  .  . 
and  .  .  .  and  you  can  quote  all  the  big  authors  .  .  . 
and  .  .  .  oh,  everything. 
HIRAM 

You  are  a  keen  observer.    Strangely  enough,  though, 


112  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

the  authors,  the  grammar,  and  the  big  words  don't 
make  the  best  kind  of  a  gentleman. 

MARY  JANE 

How  do  you  mean? 

HIRAM 

Some  men  are  born  gentlemen,  others  acquire  gentle 
ness,  but  the  born  kind  are  the  only  really  nice  ones. 

MARY  JANE 

Is  that  so? 

HIRAM  (a  trace  of  bitterness  underneath  the  humor) 
Yes,   and   when   they   use  the  very  big  words   you 
may  know  they  are  the  acquiring  kind  and  use  fine 
language  so  that  people  won't  guess  that  their  an 
cestors  ate  with  their  knives  and  chewed  tobacco. 

MARY  JANE  (with  solemn  eyes) 
Then  are  you  that  kind? 

HIRAM 
Yes. 

MARY  JANE   {disillusioned) 

Oh!  (There  is  silence  for  a  moment)  Well,  I  don't 
care!  I  like  you. 

HIRAM    (interested) 
Do  you?    Why? 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  I  just  do,  and  you  've  been  ever  so  nice  to  me 
and  made  my  favorite  dishes  whenever  I  've  asked 
you  to. 
HIRAM  (whimsically  and  with  tenderness) 

So  I  paved  the  way  to  your  heart  with  rice  fritters. 
Well,  I  'm  very  glad  you  like  me,  little  Miss  Mary 
Jane  .  .  .  more  glad  than  you  can  possibly  know. 
And  when  I  go  away  from  here,  I  promise  you  that 
I  shall  never  try  to  please  any  little  girl  as  I  have 
you. 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  113 

MARY  JANE 

Really  and  truly? 

HIRAM 

Really  and  truly.     Yes,  and  before  I  go,  I  may  ask 

you  for  a  keepsake. 
MARY  JANE  (excited  by  the  possibilities  of  romance) 

A  lock  of  my  hair? 
HIRAM  (smiling) 

Perhaps. 

[Lucille  comes  along  the  street  from  the  left,  and 

Star  Skinner,  with  Ivy  WUcox  on  his  arm,  enters 

from  the  right  and  passes  her. 
IVY  WILCOX   (triumphantly) 

Hello,  Lucille! 

[They  exit  to  the  left,  and  Lucille,  with  a  toss  of  her 

head,  enters  the  shop. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  Lucille,  I  've  got  something  for  you.  (She  takes 
the  note  from  her  pocket  and  hands  it  to  her  with 
much  mystery  in  her  tone  and  manner)  Here  's  a 
note  Somebody  gave  me  for  you.  And  they  said  it 
was  very  important. 

LUCILLE  (throwing  a  look  toward  Hiram) 

Hush,  don't  tell  everybody  in  town  about  it.  (She 
eagerly  opens  the  note  and  reads  it  with  a  smile  and 
glow  on  her  face;  as  she  finishes  the  note  and  raises 
her  eyes,  she  encounters  those  of  Hiram,  and  in 
stantly  resents  his  surveillance) 

HIRAM 

No  bad  news  I  trust. 

LUCILLE  (sharply) 

This  is  a  private  matter. 


114  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM 

Ah,  it  does  n't  come  in  my  department. 
LUCILLE  (ignoring  the  question  and  looking  around  the 
office)     Where's  everybody?     I  thought  the  paper 
was  coming  out  to-day.     Why,  what  are  you  doing? 

MARY   JANE 

Oh,  Lucille,  you  just  ought  to  see  how  fast  Nabal 
can  set  type. 
LUCILLE 

Nabal?     I   don't   understand. 

HIRAM 

One  of  my  early  accomplishments.  I  don't  imagine 
your  mother  would  object  if  I  practised  a  little. 

LUCILLE 

I  can't  understand  you  at  all.  You  seem  to  be 
laughing  at  us  all  the  time,  or  at  yourself,  and  you 
seem  to  know  everything. 

HIRAM 

Not  everything.  For  example,  I  don't  know  the 
contents  of  that  note. 

LUCILLE  (with  a  gasp,  putting  it  behind  her  back) 
Why,  no  ... 

HIRAM 

But  perhaps  I  can  guess.  Barrett  Sheridan  is  try 
ing  to  make  an  appointment  with  you. 

LUCILLE  (with  an  effort  to  recover  herself) 
That  is  my  affair. 

HIRAM 

And  it  is  mine  to  ...  (Realizing  where  his  feelings 
are  leadmg  him  and  suddenly  restraining  himself) 
Has  your  mother  your  confidence? 

LUCILLE 

Why  should  you  ask  me  that? 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  115 

HIRAM  (after  a  pause,  with  a  shrug) 

You're   right  ...  why    should   I?      (He  re&wmes 

work) 
PORTIA  (drives  up  in  front  of  the  shop  with  an  old  man 

in  the  buggy  beside  her;  she  jumps  out  and  helps  the 

old  notary  out  carefully)     Whoa!     Much  obliged, 

Mr.  Dobbs.     (Calls)     Lewellyn! 

MARY  JANE 

He  is  n't  here,  mother. 

PORTIA 

Plague  take  that  boy!  Here  you,  sonny!  (A  boy 
comes  running  to  her)  Take  this  around  to  Blan- 
chard's.  (The  boy  jumps  into  the  buggy  and  drives 
off  with  a  flourish.  Old  Mr.  Dobbs  goes  down  the 
street.  Portia  enters  the  office  briskly,  holding  in 
her  hand  a  legal  paper)  Well,  both  my  chicks  here. 
(Takes  off  her  hat  and  looks  around.  Hiram  imme 
diately  stops  work,  rolls  down  his  sleeves,  and  dons 
his  coat)  Why,  where 's  Gene? 

HIRAM 

He  had  gone  when  I  returned  from  marketing. 

PORTIA  (puzzled  and  a  little  dazed  at  such  an  unwonted 
negligence  on  Gene's  part)  Gone  ?  .  .  .  Gone !  .  .  . 
And  we  've  got  to  hustle  to  press.  I  've  got  Jenny 
Miller's  affidavit  here.  (At  her  desk)  It  will  mean 
Skinner's  defeat. 

LUCILLE 

Yes,  and  it  will  mean  yours  and  mine  and  Girlie's 
too! 

PORTIA  (amazed  at  this  sudden  outburst) 

I  thought  we  had  settled  all  that.  Surely  it  is  n't 
on  Star  Skinner's  account  that  you  .  .  . 


116  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  what  do  I  care  about  Star  Skinner?  He 's 
nothing  to  me. 

PORTIA 

Not  since  that  actor  came  along. 

LUCILLE 

He  never  was.  I  went  with  him,  of  course.  Who 
else  was  there  to  go  with  in  this  God-forsaken  place? 
I  went  with  him  because  he  had  money,  and  if  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst,  I  could  marry  him  and 
make  him  take  me  away  where  I  could  see  something 
and  learn  something. 

HIRAM  (picking  up  his  basket) 
Shan't  I  go? 

PORTIA  (strongli/) 

No,  stay.  (She  looks  across  Lucille  at  him,  as  if 
commanding  that  he  should  stay  and  share  the 
realization  of  the  girl's  difficult  nature) 

LUCILLE  (half  hysterical  and  wholly  reckless) 

Oh,  I  don't  care  who  knows  it.  Nabal  has  been  out 
in  the  world.  He  sees  how  bound  down  we  are  here. 
We  have  n't  even  a  fair  chance.  And  you  are  making 
it  so  hard.  (Wildly)  Everyone  is  talking  about 
you,  mother. 

PORTIA 
Lucille ! 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  you  don't  hear  it,  but  I  do,  and  Girlie  will. 
Wait  until  she  's  a  little  older  .  .  .  then  things  will 
fall  on  her  as  they  have  on  me.  But  I  'm  going  to 
get  away  from  it.  What  life  has  a  girl  here,  with 
no  father  and  no  money,  shut  up  in  this  horrible 


ACT  H]  MARY    JANE'S   PA  117 

little  town  and  no  one  to  help  you  get  a  chance? 
But  I  '11  have  it.  You  see  if  I  don't,  mother,  you 
just  see. 

[She  rushes  out  of  the  office  and  down  the  street. 
Portia  and  Hiram  stand  looking  at  each  other  in 
painful  silence;  Mary  Jane  stands  between  them,  her 
rosy  face  full  of  sympathy  and  distress. 

MARY   JANE 

I  'm    sorry   everything 's    so   wrong,   Mumsey.  .  .  . 
(The  others  can  think  of  nothing  to  say)     Shall  I 
go  home  with  Lucille? 
PORTIA  (in  a  low,  broken  voice) 
Yes,  dear,  do. 

MARY  JANE 

All   right.      (Looking   wistfully   at   Hiram)      You 
know  all  about  everything,  Nabal  .  .  .  help  Mum 
sey,  won't  you? 
HIRAM  (slowly) 
If  she  wishes  it. 

MARY  JANE 

That 's  good.  (Runs  out  and  down  the  street)  Oh, 
Lucille,  Lucille,  wait! 

[Portia  stands  by  her  desk,  silent  and  bitter;  as  she 
does  not  speak,  Hiram  prepares  to  go. 

HIRAM 

Mr.  Preston  called  and  was  .  .  . 

PORTIA  (quickly,  as  she  pulls  herself  together  with  an 
effort)  Yes,  I  know.  I  saw  him  here  before  I  went 
to  the  factory.  (Trying  to  force  her  mind  on  the 
work  at  hand)  I  wonder  where  Gene  is.  He  ought 
to  be  hard  at  work.  This  affidavit  must  be  set  up. 
(Goes  to  the  case,  puts  the  affidavit  on  the  hook,  is 
rolling  up  her  sleeves  to  begin  setting  it  up,  when 


118  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

her  eyes  light  on  the  pied  story)     My  God,  who  did 
this? 

HIRAM  (stopping  on  his  way  to  the  door) 
What? 

PORTIA 

Pied  this  story. 

HIRAM 

I  don't  know. 
PORTIA  (savagely) 

Did  you? 
HIRAM  (controlling  a  flash  of  indignation) 

No,  I  did  not.     (It  is  apparent  that  he  is  trying  to 

place   the  blame;    suddenly  a  thought  strikes  him 

and  he  makes  a  swift  gesture) 
PORTIA  (eagerly) 

What  is  it? 

HIRAM 

I  think  I  know  who  did  it. 
PORTIA   (quickly) 
Who? 

HIRAM 

Your  friend  .  .  .  (Suddenly  changes  his  mind  about 

telling  her)     No. ...  no  ...  I  was  mistaken. 
PORTIA  (growing  desperate  and  losing  her  head  a  little) 

And  Gene  has  gone.  .  .  .  What  can  he  mean  by  it? 

.  .  .  He  would  n't  sell  me  out  to  Skinner. 
HIRAM 

Your  merry  Eugene  is  an  imbecile,  but  an  honest  one, 

I  think. 
PORTIA    (pacing   about   wildly   and  going   up   to    the 

engine  and  press)     The  paper  should  be  out  now. 

(She  sees  the  monkey  wrench  on  the  floor  and  picks 

it  up)     What's  this  doing  here?     The  press  was  all 


ACT  n]  MARY   JANE'S    PA  119 

right  this  morning.  (Intuitively  divining  that  some 
thing  serious  is  amiss  with  the  machinery)  The  en 
gine  is  ...  (Looking  it  over)  The  starting- wheel 
is  gone  .  .  .  the  arm  is  loose  .  .  .  the  press  is  use 
less. 

HIRAM  (loitering  at  the  door,  loath  to  leave) 
Any  orders,  ma'am. 

PORTIA  (with  arms  and  shoulders  drooping  she  stands 
before  the  press,  beaten  and  despairing)  The  paper 
can't  come  out.  After  the  fight  I  've  made.  It 's  all 
for  nothing  .  .  .  the  paper  can't  come  out.  (A  low 
moan  escapes  her;  suddenly  she  realizes  that  Hiram 
is  standing  in  the  door  —  Hiram  who  knows  all  the 
tricks  of  the  trade;  she  turns  and  calls  with  a  note 
of  appeal  m  her  voice)  Hiram! 

HIRAM  (respectfully) 
Did  you  say  Nabal? 

PORTIA  (abandoning  all  reserve  in  her  manner) 

No,  I  said  Hiram.  Don't  go  ...  I  ...  I  want 
your  advice.  I  need  your  help. 

HIRAM  (coming  down  to  her) 
I  am  at  your  service. 

PORTIA 

The  press  is  useless;   what  shall  I  do? 

HIRAM  (thinking  quickly) 

Send  the  forms  to  the  next  town  and  get  them 
printed. 

PORTIA 

The  papers  there  would  n't  do  it.  Besides,  there 
is  n't  time.  Skinner  has  every  paper  in  the  district 
fixed  but  the  "  Clarion."  Can't  you  see  I  've  got  a 
story  that  will  keep  him  from  getting  the  nomina 
tion?  He  's  a  rascal  and  a  thief.  My  paper  can 


120  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

defeat  him,  I  know,  if  it 's  out  before  the  Convention 

meets  this  afternoon. 
HIRAM  (meeting  her  appealing  look  with  a  significant 

expression)     Do  you  think  you  can  afford  to  defeat 

him? 
PORTIA 

If  a  man  had  taken  the  stand  I  have  in  his  paper, 

would  n't  he  try  to  defeat  him  ? 
HIRAM 

Yes,  unless  he  were  bought  off. 

PORTIA 

Well,  this  is  n't  a  question  of  sex. 

HIRAM 

I  'm  afraid  it  is  more  so  than  you  think. 
PORTIA  (reading  his  meaning  in  his  face) 

You  mean  .  .  .  that  .  .  .   ? 
HIRAM 

Yes.     Rome  Preston  admires  you.     You  champion 

his  fight  .  .  .  the  conclusion  is  obvious. 
PORTIA  (crestfallen  for  the  moment) 

Oh.     It 's  because  he  's  an  honest  man  that  I  want 

him  to  win. 
HIRAM  (a  slightly  perceptible  smile  of  scepticism) 

Yes? 

PORTIA 

But  I  '11  tell  you,  too,  that  he  has  seemed  to  care  for 
me,  and  if  I  had  been  a  free  woman  I  presume  I 
should  have  married  him.     (A  little  pause;   she  looks 
steadily  at  him)     Now  will  you  help  me? 
HIRAM 

Yes,  I  think  I  will.     (He  puts  down  his  basket,  and 
with  it  every  vestige  of  the  servant;    his  eyes  take 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  121 

in  the  detail  of  the  plant's  resources  and  rest  on  the 
press  back  of  the  counter)  Can  that  old  press  be 
used? 

PORTIA 

I  don't  know.  It  needs  doctoring. 
[Hiram  pulls  off  his  coat,  rolls  up  his  sleeves,  and 
sets  briskly  to  work.  He  jumps  over  the  counter 
and  gets  from  the  shelf  an  oil  can  and  some  waste. 
He  sweeps  the  debris  from  the  top  of  the  old  fly 
wheel  hand-press.  For  the  moment  his  customary 
nonchalance  has  gone.  Portia  is  at  the  case  with 
her  sleeves  rolled  up  and  sticking  type  as  she  sets 
up  the  affidavit.  Both  have  unconsciously  dropped 
into  the  old  relationship  easily  and  naturally. 

HIRAM 

I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  with  this.  I  saw  the  pi  and 
set  up  the  story  again.  I  notice  that  you  are 
running  your  affidavit  for  a  heading. 

PORTIA  (sticking  type  in  a  workman-like  manner,  but 
by  no  means  as  fast  as  Hiram)  Yes,  most  of  the 
story  was  set  up.  All  I  needed  was  Jenny  Miller's 
story  attested  by  the  notary.  .  .  .  Only  a  few  lines 
more.  Thank  Heaven  you  set  up  the  rest  of  the 
story. 

HIRAM  (busily  oiling  all  parts  of  the  old  press) 
This  looks  as  if  it  came  out  of  the  ark. 

PORTIA 

It 's  just  like  the  one  you  and  I  ran  in  Medairyville. 

HIRAM  (working  busily) 

Has  the  business  paid  for  the  new  press? 

PORTIA 

Not  yet.  The  bank  holds  my  notes  for  six  hundred 
dollars. 


122  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

HIRAM 

Is  Skinner  one  of  the  directors? 
PORTIA 
Yes. 

HIRAM 

You  know  what  he  '11  do  if  he  does  n't  get  the  nomi 
nation. 
PORTIA 
What? 

HIRAM 

Try  to  sell  you  up. 

PORTIA  (pausing  for  a  moment) 
He  can  try  it  and  be  ... 

HIRAM  (also  pausing) 
Allow  me  .  .  .  damned. 

PORTIA 

Thanks.     (Both  resume  work  with  a  smile) 

HIRAM  (after  a  short  silence) 

You  are  a  brave  woman,  but  a  foolish  one.  How 
ever,  one  must  be  foolish  to  be  brave.  .  .  .  We  '11 
cut  down  the  size  of  the  paper.  .  .  .  Can  you  lock 
the  forms? 

PORTIA 
Yes. 

HIRAM 

You  '11  have  to  make  it  one  page. 
PORTIA 

I  don't  care  if  it's  one  column.  The  story  of  the 
Miller  foreclosure  will  keep  Skinner  from  getting 
even  a  run  for  his  money. 

[Hiram  stoops  and  is  cleaning  and  ottwg  the  lower 
part  of  the  press.  Down  the  street  and  into  the 
shop  come  Skinner  and  his  adviser  Whipple,  a  typi- 


ACT  n]  MARY    JANE'S    PA 

cal  country  politician,  about  fifty  years  old,  pompous, 
and  assured.  STtmner  appears  to  be  a  little  scared 
and  conciliatory.  Neither  of  them  can  see  Hiram, 
and  they  observe  with  palpable  satisfaction  that 
Portia  is  apparently  alone. 

SKINNER  (to  Portia,  who  does  not  look  up  from  her 
stick)  Good  afternoon,  Mis'  Perkins.  May  we 
have  a  word  with  you? 

PORTIA 
You  may. 

SKINNER 

I  guess  you  know  Mr.  Whipple. 
PORTIA 
I  do. 

WHIPPLE 

Howdy  do.     Yes  .  .  .  yes.  ...  It    seems    a    pity, 
Mrs.  Perkins,  for  the  "  Clarion  "  to  be  on  the  off 
side. 
PORTIA 
Off-side? 

WHIPPLE 

Why,  yes.     You  might  as  well  get  into  the  band 

wagon.      We  've   heard   about  that   story   you   are 

going  to  print  about  our  candidate. 
SKINNER  (coming  to  the  case  and  getting  close  to  her) 

Yes,  and  we  're  ready  to  make  a  dicker. 
PORTIA  (working  away) 

I  understand. 
WHIPPLE 

We  are  willing  to  pay  you  a  hundred  dollars  not  to 

print  it. 
PORTIA  (without  looking  up) 

Too  cheap. 


124  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

SKINNER 

Oh,  I  know  you  've  bed  a  hard  time  to  git  along, 
and  I  don't  mind  makin*  it  two  hundred. 
PORTIA  (still  intent  on  her  work) 
Too  cheap. 

SKINNER 

Now  don't  be  too  graspin'! 

PORTIA 

The  story  goes  in. 

[Whipple  whispers  to  Skinner. 

SKINNER  (confidently) 

Well,  I  Jll  take  up  yer  notes  at  the  bank  and  give 
'em  to  you. 

PORTIA 

No,  I  shall  run  the  story.  (She  goes  up  to  form- 
table,  puts  the  story  in  the  form,  and  locks  it) 

SKINNER 

Great  Cassar's  ghost,  woman,  what  do  you  want? 

PORTIA 

I  want  Joel  Skinner  to  retire  from  the  contest. 
That 's  my  price  and  the  only  one. 

SKINNER  (in  a  fury) 

Lay  down  and  let  Rome  Preston  walk  in? 

WHIPPLE 

What  do  you  think  we  are? 

PORTIA  (to  Whipple)     I  think  you're  a  grafter.     (To 
Skinner)     And  I  know  you  Jre  a  thief. 
[Skinner  begins  to  rage. 

WHIPPLE 

Don't  waste  your  breath,  Skinner.  She  '11  listen  to 
reason  or  she  '11  take  the  consequences.  (He  goes  up 
to  the  door  and  closes  it,  as  if  preparing  to  hold  the 
place  and  prevent  any  business  going  on) 


ACT  H]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  125 

PORTIA 

Get  out  of  my  office. 

SKINNER 

We  '11  draw  out  the  "  Clarion's  "  fangs  first.     (He 

catches  hold  of  the  form-table  as  if  to  overthrow  it) 
PORTIA  (catching  up  the  mallet  from  the  table) 

If  you  lay  hands   on  anything  in  this   office,  I  '11 

smash  your  heads. 

{This  staggers  them  for  a  moment.    Hiram,  hearing 

it  all,  has  slid  over  the  counter  and  quietly  reopened 

the  doors. 
WHIPPLE 

We  '11  hold  the  fort  here  until  the  Convention  is 

over. 
HIRAM 

This  is  our  busy  day.    Will  you  be  good  enough  to 

be  on  your  way?      (His  threatening  eye  and  the 

gathering  crowd  on  the  street  decide  them) 
SKINNER 

Who's  this? 

HIRAM 

Outside,  please.      (The  men  exit,  dazed  and  dum- 

founded.    Hiram  goes  to  the  form-table)     I  believe 

the  old  press  will  work. 

[Together  they  roll  the  formrtable  to  the  counter, 

lift  it  up,  and  from  there  get  it  onto  the  press. 

Lewellyn  enters  from  the  street. 
LEWELLYN  (he  too  is  dumfounded  at  seeing  Hiram  at 

work  on  the  old  press)     Say,  what  are  you  doin* 

now? 
PORTIA  (taking  her  position  to  feed  the  hand-press  and 

pull    off    the    printed    sheet)      Come    on    in    here, 


126  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  n 

Lewellyn,  and  fold  these  papers.     You  '11  have  to 
deliver  them  too. 
LEWELLYN  (wide-eyed) 

Say,  you  can't  go  to  press  without  Gene. 

FOBTIA 

Can't  I?  I  '11  do  it  if  I  drop  beside  this  old  thresh 
ing  machine. 

LEWELLYN 

By  Gosh! 

[Hiram  turns  the  flywheel,  Portia  feeds  the  press 
and  throws  the  printed  sheets  to  Lewellyn  over  the 
counter.  He  folds  them  on  the  floor.  The  crowd, 
amazed  at  the  strange  sight,  crowd  around  the  door. 

CURTAIN 


THE    THIRD   ACT 


PERSONS 

POETIA  PERKINS 

LUCILLE  PEEKINS 

MAEY  JANE  PEEKINS 

Miss  FAXON 

IVY  WILCOX 

MES.  WILCOX 

HIEAM  PEEKINS 

ROME  PEESTON 

BAEEETT  SHEEIDAN 

JOEL  SKINNEE 

STAE  SKINNEE 

CLAUD  WHITCOMB 

LINC  WATKINS 

EUGENE  MEEEYFIELD 

LEWELLYN  GEEEN 

JIM 

Girls  and  boys  at  Ivy's  party 

A  crowd  of  Gosport's  male  and  female  citizens 


THE    THIRD   ACT 

It  is  the  evening  of  the  next  day.  The  scene  is  the 
yard  of  the  Perkins  home,  showing  the  side  and  rear 
of  the  house,  a  small  kitchen  porch  at  the  back,  and  the 
side  porch.  A  door  leads  from  the  side  porch  into  the 
living-room  seen  in  the  first  act.  A  picket  fence  with 
a  gate  at  the  right  runs  across  the  upper  stage;  beyond 
that  is  the  road  and  the  yard  of  the  neighbor  across 
the  way,  thickly  screened  with  foliage.  In  perspective 
above  the  trees  are  a  couple  of  church  spires  and  the 
roof  of  the  school.  In  the  centre  of  the  yard  is  a  large 
tree,  from  which  is  suspended  a  swing.  A  hedge  at  the 
left  divides  the  yard  from  that  of  the  Wilcox's,  and 
just  beyond  it  a  wing  of  the  Wilcox  home  juts  out. 
The  two  windows  visible,  one  facing  the  audience  and 
the  other  looking  toward  the  Perkins  yard,  are  bril 
liantly  lighted.  In  the  Perkins  yard  are  two  garden 
benches,  one  against  the  hedge  down  the  left,  the  other 
up  against  the  fence.  The  usual  geranium  and  nastur 
tium  beds  grow  around  the  side  porch  and  near  the 
hedge;  a  flower-box  of  trailing  vines  is  against  the 
porch  rail.  At  the  back  of  the  house  hollyhocks,  sun 
flowers,  and  golden-glows  grow  near  the  kitchen.  A 
rug  is  on  the  side  porch  and  two  or  three  cotton-covered 
cushions  on  the  steps. 

Portia  is  discovered  sitting  on  the  side  porch  in  a 
rocking-chair,  a  light  shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders. 
Her  face  is  pale  and  strained.  Her  head  is  thrown 


130  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

back,  and  she  seems  looking  up  at  the  heavens,  as  if 
to  find  there  an  answer  to  the  problems  of  her  life. 
The  bay  window  jutting  beyond  the  porch  back  of 
her  discloses  the  shaded  lamp,  the  glow  of  which  is 
thrown  across  the1  yard  and  illumines  Mary  Jane,  who 
is  in  the  swing  "  letting  the  old  cat  die."  Leaning  in 
the  doorway  of  the  kitchen  is  Hiram,  dressed  in  dark 
trousers,  white  shirt  and  belt,  coatless,  and  wearing  a 
man's  white  apron  with  one  corner  tucked  up,  turn 
down  collar,  and  dark  tie.  As  he  leans  against  the 
door  casement,  he  too  is  looking  up  at  the  same  group 
of  stars  from  which  Portia  is  seeking  inspiration.  Over 
everything  there  broods  a  quiet  tension. 

Presently  Ivy  WUcox,  dressed  in  a  stiffly  starched 
white  dress,  white  canvas  shoes,  and  gay  ribbons,  runs 
across  the  stage  and  enters  the  gate. 

IVY  (as  she  comes  in  at  the  gate) 
Hello,  Mary  Jane! 

MARY  JANE 

Hello,  Ivy! 
IVY  (running  up  on  the  porch  and  quite  breathless) 

Oh  say,  Mis'  Perkins.     I  'm  goin'  to  have  a  party 

to-night  and  we  ain't  got  near  enough  napkins  or 

spoons  to  go  round.  Kin  I  borrow  some  of  yours? 
PORTIA 

I  '11  get  them  for  you. 
IVY 

Oh,  don't  stir  yourself,  I  '11  ask  him  fer  'em. 
PORTIA 

The  napkins  are  in  the  sideboard  drawer. 
IVY 

All  right.    Maw's  made  ice  cream  and  four  kinds  of 


ACT  ra]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  131 

cake,  so  they  ought  to  have  a  good  time.     (She  goes 

into  the  sitting-room) 
MARY  JANE  (with  eager  interest) 

Mumsey,  did  Ivy  say  she  was  going  to  have  a  party? 
PORTIA 

Yes. 

MARY  JANE 

Well,  she  did  n't  invite  me  to  it. 
PORTIA 

You  are  a  little  bit  too  young  for  Ivy's  parties. 

MARY  JANE 

Well,  maybe  I  am,  but  Lucille  ain't.     I  don't  believe 

she  's  invited  her. 
PORTIA  (a  weary  note  in  her  voice) 

Very  likely  not. 
MARY  JANE  (with  childish  insistency) 

But  why? 
PORTIA 

Let  us  not  ask,  dearie. 

[Mary  Jane  resumes  her  swinging  with  an  air  of 

juvenile  gloom. 

Down  the  street  from  the  left  comes  Lucille,  with  a 

pile  of  books  under  her  arms.     She  enters  the  gate 

and  is  about  to  go  into  the  house. 
PORTIA 

Where  have  you  been,  dear? 
LUCILLE  (coming  to  the  porch  steps  in  front  of  Portia) 

To  the  school  building. 
PORTIA 

What  for? 
LUCILLE   (sitting  on  the  steps  and  tossing  down  the 

books  in  the  angle)     I  got  the  janitor  to  let  me  in 

to  get  my  books. 


132  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

PORTIA  (learning  forward  anxiously  and  trying  to  see 

the  girl's  face)     Why,  Lucille,  you  're  not  — 
LUCILLE 

I  'm  never  going  to  school  again,  mother. 
PORTIA 

Why,  you  surely  won't  — 
LUCILLE 

Never,  never.     I  can't  bear  it  ...  I  can't  stand  it. 
PORTIA  (after  a  painful  little  pause) 

Is  it  because  of  what  people  are  saying? 
LUCILLE   (  wincing  ) 

Don't  ask  me,  mother,  please. 
PORTIA 

I  ...  I  won't,  dear. 

[She  rises  with  a  look  of  discouragement  and  goes 

into  the  house.     Lucille  goes  up  and  throws  herself 

down  on  a  bench  against  the  fence,  her  head  on  her 

arms,  moodily  thinking. 

Ivy  WUcox,  with  a  pile  of  napkins  in  one  arm  and 

the  other  hand  grasping  a  lot  of  spoons,  comes  out 

on  the  rear  porch  from  the  kitchen,  followed  by 

Hiram. 
IVY 

Much  obliged  to  you  fer  gittin'  them  fer  me. 
HIRAM  (with  a  gallant  smile) 

The  pleasure  is  all  mine,  Miss  Wilcox. 
IVY  (backing  down  the  steps,  laughing) 

My  land,  you  talk  just  like  our  preacher. 
HIRAM 

I  don't  think  I  deserve  that. 


He,    he!     Ain't    you    awful?     Makin'    fun    of    the 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  133 

preacher.     I  'm  afraid  you  ain't  never  had  a  change 

of  heart. 
HIRAM 

You  might  try  to  effect  one.  .  .  .  You  have  been 

very  successful  with  Eugene. 
IVY  (sniggering  with  pleased  vanity) 

Oh,  you  git  out!  ...  Of  course  I  can't  help  seein' 

he  's  crazy  about  me,  but  I  ain't  encouragin'  Gene 

Merryfield  none. 
HIRAM 

No? 
IVY  (with  sudden  seriousness) 

No  siree.  ...  I  think  an  elocutionist  ought  to  be 

careful  who  she  marries,  don't  you? 
HIRAM  (gravely) 

Undoubtedly.     She  should  make  sure  of  the  man's 

powers  of  resistance  and  endurance. 
IVY 

Oh,  you're  jokin'  me  now! 
HIRAM 

Oh  no  ...  no  indeed!     I  hope  your  party  will  be 

a  great  success. 
IVY 

'T  won't  be  our  fault  if  it  ain't.     We  've  took  down 

the  bed  in  the  spare  room. 
HIRAM 

Really? 

IVY 

Em-hm !     So  's  them  that  ain't  dancers  kin  set  in 
there  and  play  authors. 
HIRAM 
Oh,  joy! 


134  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

IVY 

Some  of  the  boys  '11  want  to  play  Pedro,  but  Maw 
won't  have  gamblin'  cards  in  the  house. 

HIRAM 

Noble  woman! 

IVY  (sincerely  desiring  to  settle  cm  ethical  point) 
Do  you  think  it  5s  a  sin  f er  a  man  to  play  Pedro  ? 

HIRAM   (solemnly) 
I  think  it 's  a  crime. 

MRS.  WILCOX  (calling  from  her  window) 
Ivy! 

IVY  (bawling) 
Yes,  Maw! 

MRS.  WILCOX 

You  've  got  to  hurry !     (She  disappears) 

IVY 

Maw  wants  me.     I  gotta  go.     Good-bye! 

HIRAM 

Au  revoir!     (He  goes  back  into  the  kitchen) 

IVY  (runs  home  and  calls  out  as  she  passes  Lucille) 
Good  evening!  (As  she  gets  outside  the  gate,  she 
meets  a  girl  going  to  her  party;  they  "  lock  arms  " 
and  laughingly  enter  Ivy's  yard;  Ivy  comes  around 
to  the  hedge)  Oh  say,  Lucille!  (Lucille  goes  over 
toward  her)  You  ain't  mad  'cause  I  did  n't  invite 
you  to  my  party,  are  you? 

LUCILLE  (her  voice  cold) 

I  had  n't  thought  anything  about  it. 

IVY  (blankly) 

Oh!  (An  embarrassed  pause)  Well,  I  wanted  to 
invite  you,  but  lots  of  'em  that 's  comin'  would  n't 
like  it  on  account  of  all  the  talk  about  .  .  .  about 
her  (nodding  her  head  toward  the  house).  And  .  .  . 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  135 

and  then,  too,  Star  Skinner's  comin'.      (This  last 
information  with  a  triumphant  note)      My  land,  I 
got  to  hurry !    It 's  time  they  was  beginning  to  come. 
[Ivy  scurries  around  into  the  house.     Several  young 
men  and  girls  pass  on  the  way  to  the  party. 
Mary  Jane  has  gone  to  the  kitchen  steps  and  sits 
meditating  m  a  gentle  melanclioly  with  her  chin  m 
her  hand.     Hiram,  coming  out  of  the  kitchen,  ob 
serves  her. 
HIRAM 

Why  so  pensive  and  so  grave,  little  Miss  Mary  Jane? 

MARY  JANE 

I  was  just  thinking  that  if  I  should  die  to-night, 
Ivy  Wilcox  would  be  sorry  she  did  n't  invite  me  to 
her  party. 
HIRAM 

I  'm  sure  she  would  be  consumed  with  remorse. 

MARY  JANE 

They  're  going  to  have  ice  cream  and  four  kinds  of 
cake. 

HIRAM 

And  an  awful  pain  in  their  tummies.  Come  in  the 
kitchen  and  let  me  show  you  a  cake  I  've  made  for 
you. 

MARY  JANE  (brightly) 
Oh! 

[Mary  Jane  follows  Hiram  into  the  kitchen.  Lucille 
stands  leaning  against  the  fence.  Star  Skinner  and 
another  young  man  enter  from  the  right  on  their 
way  to  Ivy's  party. 

STAR 

Hello,  Lucille! 


136  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

LUCILLE 

Hello! 

YOUNG    MAN 

Hello,  Lucille! 

LUCILLE 

Hello,  Jim! 

[Star  sends  Jim  into  Ivy's  house;    he  comes  around 

on  the  Wilcox  side  of  the  hedge. 
STAR 

Say,  Lucille,  can  I  speak  to  you  for  a  minute? 
LUCILLE  (coming  down} 

I  suppose  so.     Will  you  come  over? 
STAR 

No,  thanks.    I  'm  over  to  Ivy  Wilcox's  party. 
LUCILLE   (indifferently') 

Oh,  indeed! 
STAR 

Say,  have  you  lost  anything? 
LUCILLE  (reading  his  leering  smile  with  alarm) 

What  do  you  mean?      (Suddenly  she  runs  to  her 

books  on  the  steps,  picks  up  one  and  looks  mside  the 

cover  as  if  expecting  to  find  something  there)     Why 

.    .    .    it 's    gone    .    .    .    why  .  .  .   (Standing    up) 

You  've  got  it ! 
STAR 

Got  what? 
LUCILLE  (excitedly,  going  over  to  him) 

You  've  got  it  ...  my  letter  ...  a  note  for  me 

...  I  must  have  dropped  it. 
STAR 

You  did  .  .  .  right  in  front  of  our  store,  too.    Kind 

of  an  important  thing  to  drop,  too,  was  n't  it? 


ACT:  ra]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  13Y 

LUCILLE  (terrified) 

You  .  .  .  you  didn't  read  it? 
STAR  (with  a  brutal  sneer  and  smile) 

Course  I  did.     How  else  would  I  know  it  was  so 

important? 
LUCILLE 

You  sneak! 
STAR    (his  smile  giving  place  to   boyish   temper  and 

anger)     Oh,  shoot !    I  ain't  no  more  of  a  sneak  than 

that  actor  fellow  .  .  .  coaxin'  you  to  run  away  with 

him. 
LUCILLE  (with  a  gesture  of  alarm) 

Hush! 

STAR 

Oh,  afraid  somebody  '11  hear,  are  you?  Well,  what 
do  you  think  I  care  ?  You  've  played  with  me  like 
a  trout  on  a  hook.  You  've  kept  company  with  me 
fer  two  years,  and  now  you  're  tryin'  to  make  a 
show  and  a  laughin'  stock  of  me  to  the  hull  town. 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  I  'm  not  thinking  of  you  at  all. 

STAR 

Oh,  you  ain't,  eh?    Well  I  am. 

LUCILLE 

You  .  .  .  you  contemptible  country  jay! 

STAR  (wild  at  this  thrust) 

Country  jay,  am  I?  Well,  he's  from  the  city  .  .  . 
see  what  he  makes  of  you.  I  'd  a  married  you. 

LUCILLE  (tensely) 
Stop  that! 

STAR    (venomously) 

I  guess  it  ain't  to  be  wondered  at.     Where  men  are 


138  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

concerned  you  're  cut  off  the  same  piece  as  your 

mother. 

[Lucille  springs  forward  and  gives  him  a  ringing 

slap  across  the  face. 
LUCILLE 

You  coward  you ! 
STAR  (catching  both  her  arms  above  the  elbow  across 

the  hedge  and  holding  her  like  a  vice)     You  little 

devil ! 
LUCILLE  (white  with  rage) 

Get  away  from  me  ...  and  don't  you  ever  dare 

speak  to  me  again.  .  .  .  Don't  you  dare! 
STAR  (backs  away  with  a  derisive  laugh,  but  holding 

his  face,  which  is  burning  from  the  blow)  Good  rid 
dance  .  .  .  that 's  all  I  've  got  to  say  to  you.  .  .  . 

Good  riddance  .  .  .  that 's  all ! 

[Lucille,  panting  with  anger  and  humiliation,  runs 

into  the  house  by  the  side  door. 

Mary  Jane  and  Hiram  come  out  from  the  kitchen 

and  sit  side  by  side  on  the  kitchen  steps. 

MARY  JANE 

I  've  got  something  for  you,  Nabal. 

HIRAM 

What  have  you  got  for  me? 

MARY  JANE  (taking  a  package  from  her  pocket) 

Here  's  a  lock  of  my  hair  and  my  tintype  that  the 
man  took  when  I  went  to  the  Fourth  of  July.  You 
know  you  asked  me  for  a  keepsake. 

HIRAM  (taking  it  and  looking  at  the  contents  with  deep 
interest)  Thank  you,  Mary  Jane.  I  'm  sorry  I 
can't  go  to  the  Fourth  with  you  next  year.  And 
here  is  something  I  want  you  to  take  care  of.  It 's 
for  your  mother.  A  sort  of  joke  on  old  Skinner. 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  139 

(He  takes  a  long  envelope  out  of  his  pocket,  looks 
at  it  with  a  smile,  and  speaks  half  to  himself)  It  is 
the  first-fruits  of  the  labor  of  my  life.  It 's  the 
proof  to  your  mother  that  for  once  I  was  man 
enough  to  ... 

MARY  JANE  (puzzled  over  his  words,  puts  her  hand  on 
his  arm)     Yes,  but  what  is  it  really? 

HIRAM 

It 's  the  root  of  all  evil,  my  dear ;  but  when  it  is 
planted  carefully,  nearly  all  the  good  things  of  life 
grow  from  it. 

MARY  JANE  (examining  the  envelope  in  wonderment) 
Oh  my !    But  how  did  you  get  it? 

HIRAM 

I  got  it  for  writing  the  book  I  told  you  about. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh!     (flatly  disappointed)   .  .  .  Aren't  you  going 
to  give  me  something  to  remember  you  by? 
HIRAM 

Do  you  want  a  keepsake  too? 

MARY  JANE 

Yes,  I  do. 

HIRAM 

Then  I  'm  going  to  send  you  a  copy  of  my  book. 
You  won't  be  able  to  understand  the  book  part  of 
it,  but  some  day  I  hope  you  will  know  what  the 
dedication  means. 

MARY  JANE 

Dedication?     What 's  that? 

HIRAM 

It 's  the  page  before  the  preface,  and  it  says  "  To 
M.  J.,  who,  at  a  very  early  age,  prompted  the  tour 
in  search  of  material,  and  who  later  in  life  inspired 


140  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

the  completion  of  the  work,  this  book  is  affection 
ately  dedicated." 

MARY  JANE  (slowly) 

To  M.  J.  .  .  .  M.  J.  .  .  .  Why,  is  that  me? 

HIRAM 

Yes. 

MARY  JANE 

Printed  on  the  page? 

HIRAM 

Yes. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  Nabal!     (Too   overcome  for  ike  moment  for 

•further  speech)     I  don't  exactly  understand,  but  I 

feel  awful  proud. 
HIRAM  (moved) 

Do  you  .  .  .  well  then  .  .  .  that  makes  me  proud 

too  .  .  .  that  is,  as  proud  as  is  possible  for  a  Dol- 

dub  to  feel. 
MARY  JANE  (unconscious  of  his  bitter  smile  and  gibe  at 

himself)     What's  a  Doldub? 
HIRAM  (catching  at  the  whimsey  as  a  relief  from  his 

mood)     Why,  did  you  never  hear  about  the  Dol- 

dubs  ?  .  .  .  They  're  awfully  funny. 

MARY  JANE 

Is  it  a  story? 

HIRAM 

Yes. 
MARY  JANE  (all  eagerness  and  attention) 

Tell  me  about  them. 
HIRAM 

Well  ...  let  me  see.  .  .  .  Once  upon  a  time  there 

were  some  strange  birds  called  Doldubs,  and  in  an 


ACT  ra]  MARY    JANE'S    PA 

old  tree  in  a  very  wobbly  nest  there  lived  a  family 
of  Doldubs. 

MARY  JANE 

How  many? 

HIRAM 

Well,  at  first  there  was  only  Dippy  Doldub  and 
Dappy  Doldub,  but  one  spring  morning  Dotty  Dol 
dub  was  born  — 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  a  baby  bird? 

HIRAM 

Yes,  and  a  long  time  after  that  Dolly  Doldub  was 
born.  And  then  the  nest  was  so  full  of  Baby  Dol 
dubs  that  Dippy  Doldub  flew  away. 

MARY  JANE 

Away  from  the  little  Doldubs? 

HIRAM 

Yes.     He  was  a  yellow  bird. 

MARY  JANE 

Were  they  all  yellow? 

HIRAM 

No,  only  Dippy.  He  was  the  only  yellow  one.  He 
went  away  off  to  another  country. 

MARY  JANE 

Can  a  Doldub  fly  that  far? 
HIRAM 

My  dear,  a  Doldub  can  fly  all  around  the  world. 

MARY  JANE 

Where  did  he  go? 
HIRAM 

Oh,  wherever  he  felt  like  going.  He  just  kept  flying 
around  for  years  and  years. 


142  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

MARY  JANE 

But  what  were  the  other  Doldubs  doing? 

HIRAM 

They  were  in  the  nest,  and  Dappy  Doldub  was 
getting  all  the  bugs  and  worms  to  feed  Dotty  and 
Dolly  Doldub. 

MARY  JANE 

Poor  old  Mamma  Doldub!     What  happened  then? 
HIRAM 

Why  then  .  .  .  then  there  came  to  the  nest  a  very 
fine  bird. 

MARY  JANE 

What  kind  ...  a  Doldub  bird? 

HIRAM 

No,  this  was  a  Law  ...  a  Lawgaritis  bird. 

MARY  JANE 

What  did  he  do? 

HIRAM 

He  sang  pretty  songs  to  Dappy  Doldub  .  .  .  such 
pretty  songs  that  she  forgot  all  about  Dippy  and 
his  tiresome  ways,  and  her  plumage  grew  brighter 
and  more  beautiful  every  day  .  .  .  until  one  day  a 
terrible  thing  happened. 

MARY  JANE 

What? 

HIRAM 

Dippy  Doldub  flew  back  to  the  nest. 

MARY  JANE 

Oh,  why  did  he? 

HIRAM 

I  wonder  .  .  .  probably  he  did  n't  know  himself. 
You  see,  he  was  a  no-account  Dippy  bird.  Still, 
when  he  saw  that  Dappy  was  so  happy,  he  wanted 


ACT  ni]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  143 

to  give  her  a  chance  to  build  a  nest  with  a  nice  bird 
that  was  n't  so  fond  of  flying  away. 

MAEY  JANE 

And  did  he? 
HIEAM  (slowly) 

Yes  ...  he  ...  he  did. 

MARY  JANE 

But  what  became  of  Dippy? 

HIRAM 

Dippy?    Why  ...  he  put  out  to  sea. 

MARY  JANE 

Like  a  boat? 

HIRAM 

No,  a  Doldub  flies  like  a  balloon,  straight  up  in  the 
air. 

MARY  JANE 

Over  the  deep  water? 
HIRAM 

Yes,  and  to  keep  himself  from  going  down  he  broke 
off  a  piece  of  the  tenth  commandment  and  threw  it 
out  for  ballast. 

MARY  JANE 

But  what  became  of  Dippy  then? 

HIRAM 

I  suppose  he  thought  himself  to  death  and  was 
buried  with  literary  honors  by  the  Ancient  Order  of 
Rainbow-Chasers. 

MARY  JANE 

Where  did  they  bury  him? 
HIRAM 

In  the  Garden  of  the  Ne'er-Do-Wells,  with  an  epi 
gram  at  his  head  and  a  joke  at  his  feet,  and  little 


144  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

caps  and  bells  growing  over  him.     (The  pause  that 
follows  is  filled  with  bitter,  scourging  thoughts) 
MARY  JANE  (blinking) 

Poor  old  Dippy,  I  'm  sorry  for  him. 

[Loud  laughter  and  screams  from  the  crowd  over  at 

the  Wilcox's. 

MALE  VOICE 

Let  »s  play  Post  Office ! 
[Shouts  of  assent  are  heard. 

FEMALE    VOICE 

Billy,  you  be  the  first  postmaster. 
[Loud  laughter  and  clapping  of  hands.    Mary  Jane, 
fascinated  by  the  sounds  of  revelry,  runs  over  to  the 
hedge  and  looks  through  the  Wilcox  window  wist 
fully;    them  she  saunters  out  the  gate  and  over  in 
front  of  Ivy's  house. 
Hiram  sits  buried  in  thought. 

Portia  comes  out  of  the  kitchen  door.  Hiram  rises 
and  makes  way  for  her;  there  is  an  embarrassed 
pause  as  he  waits  for  her  to  speak.  She  seems  un 
able  to  find  anything  to  say  for  the  moment. 

HIRAM  (by  way  of  relieving  the  tension) 

I  left  everything  all  right  at  the  office.  The  next 
issue  is  ready  to  go  to  press.  Gene  can  run  it  off. 

PORTIA 

I  appreciate  your  doing  the  work  there,  and  here  too. 

HIRAM  (ignoring  her  expressions  of  gratitude) 

The  eulogy  of  the  democratic  nominee  is  written. 
Here  are  the  proofs.  (He  takes  a  roll  of  proofs  from 
his  hip  pocket  and  hands  them  to  her)  If  you  think 
it  does  Mr.  Preston  justice  it  will  go  in. 

PORTIA  (feelmg  the  difficulty  of  the  situation) 
I  ...  I  thank  you. 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  145 

HIRAM 

You  should  be  able  to  resume  your  work  again  in  a 

day  or  two. 
PORTIA  (with  a  nervous  attempt  at  a  smile) 

Yes.     I  can't  afford  to  indulge  in  nerves  any  longer. 
HIRAM  (after  another  strained  pause) 

Before  I  leave  — 
PORTIA   (startled) 

Before  you  leave?     Why  .  .  .  why  are  you  going? 
HIRAM 

Mr.  Preston  made  it  plain  to  me  yesterday  that  my 

presence  was  a  menace  to  your  social  and  business 

popularity. 
PORTIA 

Rome  Preston  asked  you  to  go  away? 
HIRAM 

Yes. 
PORTIA  (after  a  moment's  thoughtful  silence) 

What  .  .  .  what  did  you  say  to  him? 
HIRAM 

Things  that  I  fear  annoyed  him.     Your  admiring 

friend  has  a  very  negligible  sense  of  humor. 
PORTIA 

Did  you  .  .  .  did  you  tell  him  about  us? 
HIRAM  (resenting  the  question) 

No. 

PORTIA 

I  thank  you  for  your  silence. 
HIRAM 

My  instincts  at  times  are  not  wholly  unworthy,  I 
hope. 


146  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

PORTIA 

I  beg  your  pardon.  (Another  pause)  I  want  to 
explain  how  it  was  with  us.  His  coming  into  my 
life  .  .  .  his  admiration  and  his  caring  for  me  kept 
me  alive  ...  it  made  me  feel  that  .  .  .  that  I  was 
still  a  woman  even  though  I  was  doing  a  man's  work. 

HIRAM 
My  work. 

PORTIA 

I  did  n't  mean  that. 

HIRAM 

I  know  that  you  did  n't,  but  it 's  true. 

PORTIA 

I  want  you  to  understand  what  was  between  us, 
and  — 

HIRAM 

I  have  not  misunderstood.  I  know  you  and  your 
ideal  of  life.  It  has  all  been  right  and  natural  and 
human.  If  I  had  known  ...  I  should  not  have 
come  back.  .  .  .  Do  me  the  justice  to  believe  that. 

PORTIA 

I  do  believe  you. 

[Mary  Jane  and  Preston  come  along  the  fence  from 

the  left  and  enter  the  gate. 

MARY  JANE  (calling  out) 

Oh,  Mumsey,  here  's  Mr.  Preston  to  see  you. 
[Hiram  makes  an  involuntary  move,  as  if  to  stop  her 
passing  him  on  the  way  to  meet  Preston,  but  recovers 
himself  immediately  and  goes  out  into  the  kitchen  as 
Portia  greets  Preston  by  the  porch  steps.  Mary 
Jane  resumes  her  watch  at  the  hedge. 

PRESTON  (taking  Portia's  hand  in  greeting) 
Portia! 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  147 

PORTIA  (trying  to  assume  a  bright  mood) 

I  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  congratulate  you  before, 

but  you  know  what  I  feel. 
PRESTON 

It  was  your  victory  rather  than  mine,  and  I  'm  afraid 

you  have  bought  it  dearly. 
PORTIA 

What  do  you  mean? 
PRESTON 

Why,  this  man  you  've  got  here  — 
PORTIA   (nervously) 

He  is  going  away.     And  after  that  I  '11  tell  you 

everything.     He  nas  been  doing  my  work   at  the 

office    to-day.     Rome,    he    has    written    a    splendid 

eulogy  of  you. 
PRESTON 

What? 

PORTIA 

It  will  be  in  the  next  issue.    Here  it  is.     (She  shows 

him  the  proofs) 
PRESTON 

Don't  print  that. 
PORTIA 

Why  not? 

PRESTON 

I  can't  be  under  the  obligation  to  him. 
PORTIA 

Why,  Rome  .  .  . 

PRESTON 

I  talked  with  him  yesterday.  The  man  is  unusual 
...  he  is  no  servant,  and  .  .  .  well  ...  to  be 
honest  with  you,  I  'm  jealous  of  him. 


148  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

PORTIA  (reacting) 
Oh! 

PRESTON 

I  confess  it.  I  feel  that  he  loves  you.  (She  attempts 
to  speak,  but  he  silences  her  with  a  gesture)  He 
said  nothing,  but  I  felt  it.  (She  turns  away)  For 
give  me  for  talking  like  this  .  .  .  you  had  a  terri 
ble  day  yesterday,  and  I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't  very 
cheering  news  for  you. 

PORTIA  (quickly) 
What  do  you  mean? 

PRESTON 

Skinner  has  bought  up  your  notes  from  the  bank. 

PORTIA 
No! 

PRESTON 

Yes,  he  has  taken  his  defeat  just  as  I  said  he  would. 
PORTIA 

He  '11  sell  me  out.     (With  almost  a  sob)     Oh,  Rome! 
PRESTON  (tenderly) 

Let  me  help  you.     Let  me  lend  you  the  money. 
PORTIA 

No,  that  would  n't  do.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  ought  to  have 

expected  this.    He  has  stopped  at  nothing.    He  pied 

the  Miller  story. 
PRESTON 

It  was  n't  Skinner  who  did  that. 
PORTIA 

Do  you  know  who  did  it? 

PRESTON 

Yes. 

MALE  VOICE  (at  the  Wilcox's) 
I  only  know  the  chorus. 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  149 

[To  the  accompaniment  of  a  cabinet  organ,  a  bari 
tone  voice  of  uncertain  quality  and  style  strikes  up 
the  chorus  of  "  Love  Me  and  the  World  is  Mine." 
Other  voices  join  in,  after  which  there  is  much  laugh 
ter  and  applause. 

Preston  and  Portia  have   entered   the  house,    and 
Portia  is  seen  sitting  by  the  lamp  in  the  bay  window 
talking  to  Preston,  who  is  invisible. 
Hiram  takes  down  a  dark  coat  and  his  old  soft  hat 
from  a  nail  on  the  kitchen  wall  by  the  door,  and  don 
ning  them  comes  into  the  yard  and  stands  on  the 
path  watching  Portia  through  the  window. 
Mary  Jane  stands  at  the  hedge  listening  to  the  music, 

MARY  JANE  (when  the  song  is  over) 
Are  n't  they  having  a  good  time? 

HIRAM 

Yes,  I  believe  they  are  even  capable  of  enjoying  that 
song. 

MARY  JANE  (crossing  the  yard  and  going  to  the  side 
porch)  I  guess  I  '11  go  to  bed.  It 's  so  aggravating 
to  hear  a  party  when  you  're  not  to  it. 

HIRAM  (looking  through  the  bay  window) 
Yes,  it  is  irritating. 

MARY  JANE 

I  wish  you  weren't  going  away,  Nabal.  Whenever 
I  think  about  it,  I  feel  all  choky.  (She  stands  on  the 
step  leading  to  the  porch) 

HIRAM  (standing  by  the  post,  his  voice  husky  as  he 
speaks)  Do  you? 

MARY  JANE 

Eh-hm!  (Giving  her  hand  to  him)  Good  night, 
Nabal. 


150  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

HIRAM  (takes  her  hand  and  strokes  it,  then  her  hair, 

as  if  loath  to  relinquish  the  contact)     Good  night, 

little  Mary  Jane. 
MARY  JANE  ( as  he  releases  her  she  goes  to  the  door  and 

turns  to  him,  again)     I  wish  you  just  belonged  to  us. 

Then  you  'd  have  to  stay. 
HIRAM   (looking  toward  Portia) 

Yes,  that 's  the  trouble.     I  don't  seem  to  belong. 

Good  night. 

MARY  JANE 

Good  night,  Nabal. 

[She  goes  out  and  a  moment  later  is  seen  kissing  her 
mother  good  night.  Hiram,  standing  in  the  shadow, 
sees  it. 

The  singers  at  the  party  strike  up  the  chorus  of 
"On  the  Wabash." 

Hiram  pulls  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  buttons  up 
his  coat,  goes  to  the  gate,  and  stands  outside  it,  as 
if  for  a  last  look  before  taking  to  the  road. 
During  the  previous  scene  Lucille  has  been  seen 
flitting  about  the  upper  room  over  the  kitchen,  the 
window  of  which  is  open  and  directly  over  the  kitchen 
door.  She  now  comes  cautiously  and  furtively 
through  the  kitchen  door,  wearing  her  best  hat  and 
light  jacket  and  carrying  a  small  telescope  grip. 
She  is  nervous  and  agitated.  She  runs  down  the 
path,  pausing  for  a  second  as  she  passes  the  window 
where  her  mother  is  sitting,  and  shrinking  into  the 
shadow  of  the  tree,  then  on  quickly  to  the  gate. 
Hiram  has  watched  her  coming  and  holds  the  gate 
closed  from  the  other  side. 

LUCILLE    (frightened   at    meeting   him,    but    speaking 
peremptorily)     Let  me  pass,  please. 


ACT  ra]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  151 

HIRAM 

Where  are  you  going? 

LUCILLE 

That  is  my  affair.     Let  me  pass. 

HIEAM  (entering  through  the  gate,  but  holding  it  shut 
after  him)  What  are  you  doing  with  a  grip? 

LUCILLE  (backing  down  from  the  gate) 
I  want  you  to  let  me  out  of  that  gate. 

HIRAM  (following  her  and  taking  the  grip  from  her) 
I  shall  not  do  so.  (She  tries  to  force  her  way  past 
him,  but  he  bars  the  way)  No,  you  can't  go.  (He 
tosses  the  grip  on  the  garden  seat) 

LUCILLE  (coming  down  under  the  tree  and  furious) 
Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man  — 

HIRAM  (following  her;  both  are  speaking  in  low  tones 
to  prevent  Portia  from  overhearing  them)  If  you 
were  a  man,  you  would  n't  be  running  off  with  Bar 
rett  Sheridan. 

LUCILLE  (shrinking  back) 

Why,  how  .  .  .  how  did  you  know? 

HIRAM 

I  saw  him  at  the  end  of  the  street  just  now,  and 
your  appearance  is  significant. 

LUCILLE 

I  don't  see  why  you  should  interfere.  You  've  done 
enough  since  you  came  here. 

HIRAM 

What  do  you  mean? 

LUCILLE  (in  sheer  desperation) 

Your  coming  to  work  for  us  has  set  the  whole  town 
against  mother.  People  are  saying  terrible  things 
...  all  lies,  I  know,  but  they  will  ruin  us  just  the 
same.  I'm  going  to  get  out  of  it.  I'm  going  to 


152  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

be  happy.  Oh,  please  let  me  go.  I  do  love  Barrett, 
and  he  loves  me.  Why  do  you  stand  in  the  way? 

HIRAM 

If  Mr.  Sheridan  is  the  man  he  should  be,  he  will 
come  and  ask  for  you  like  a  man. 

LUCILLE   (almost  beside  herself) 

But  mother  won't  listen  to  him.  Everyone  here  is 
against  her  and  they  are  all  snubbing  me.  I  won't 
stay  here.  Barrett  will  take  me  away  and  we  will  be 
married.  (Reads  the  question  in  his  face)  Oh,  I 
would  n't  go  any  other  way.  (Realizes  that  there  is 
no  relaxing  in  his  grim  face)  Oh,  why  do  I  tell  you 
all  this?  You  don't  care.  No  one  cares  but  mother 
and  Girlie,  and  they  don't  understand.  But  I  'm 
going  to  get  out  of  it.  I  'm  going  to  see  the  world 
and  — 

HIRAM  (involuntarily) 
And  live. 

LUCILLE  (catching  up  the  word,  her  face  alight) 
Yes,  that 's  it  ...  live  and  see  others  live.     Hear 
grand  music,  and  see  plays  and  pictures  and  beauti 
ful  scenery,  and  great  people  and  everything.     Oh, 
I  want  to  see  everything. 

HIRAM  (softly) 

I  know  ...  I  know  what  that  longing  is. 

LUCILLE 
You  do? 

[Drawn  to  him  by  their  common  feeling,  she  puts  out 
her  hands;  he  takes  them  and  is  just  drawing  her 
toward  him  when  the  gate  clicks  and  Barrett  Sheri 
dan  enters  the  yard,  tense  and  anxious. 

SHERIDAN 

Lucille  .  .  .  Lucille !    I  've  been  waiting  half  an  hour. 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  153 

LUCILLE  (coming  to  herself) 

Yes,  I  know.     (She  starts  toward  him  and  Hiram 

steps  between  them) 
HIEAM 

Lucille  is  doing  nicely  where  she  is.    She  is  not  going 

to  run  away  with  you. 

SHEEIDAN 

See  here,  Evans,  you  keep  out  of  this. 

HIRAM 

Do  you  think  your  father  would  be  proud  to  learn 
that  his  son  had  coaxed  this  little  country  girl  away 
from  her  home?  And  that  under  an  assumed  name? 

LUCILLE 

What  do  you  say? 

SHERIDAN 

Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  think  I  'm  not  on  the 
level  with  Lucille?    What  nonsense!  ...  I  gave  her 
mother  fair  warning  that  I  'd  get  Lucille  the  best 
way  I  could. 
HIRAM 

And  is  this  the  best  way? 

SHERIDAN 

Oh,  I  don't  like  this  sort  of  thing.  ...  In  fact  I 
came  to  the  house  now  determined  to  make  another 
stand  to  Mrs.  Perkins. 

HIRAM 

Are  you  going  to  tell  her  who  you  are? 

LUCILLE 

Oh,  Barrett,  why  didn't  you  tell  me? 

SHERIDAN  (thoroughly  annoyed  at  the  failure  of  his 
plans)  Because  I  wanted  you  to  like  me  for  my 
self.  Look  here,  Evans,  you  don't  seem  to  be  play 
ing  a  very  open  game  here  yourself. 


154  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

LUCILLE  (wide-eyed) 

Is  your  name  Evans? 
HIRAM 

No. 

SHERIDAN 

I  'm  going  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Perkins  and  have  it  over 
with.  (Starts  for  the  porch) 

HIRAM 

One  moment.    Will  you  let  me  be  your  ambassador? 

SHERIDAN  (rather  liking  the  idea,  but  hesitating) 
Why  .  .  .  why,  yes  .  .  .  that  is,  if  you  '11  put  up 
a  strong  enough  talk  for  me. 

HIRAM   (  significantly  ) 

I  am  to  see  your  father  next  week. 

SHERIDAN    (surprised) 
You  are? 

HIRAM 

Yes,  he  is  publishing  some  stuff  of  mine.  I  '11  try 
and  fix  it  with  him  for  you,  and  if  my  diplomacy  here 
is  successful —  (Interrupts  himself  to  turn  to  Lu 
cille)  Lucille,  are  you  willing  to  take  charge  of  this 
young  man's  name,  even  if  it 's  Tillottson  and  not 
Sheridan? 

LUCILLE  (eagerly) 
Why,  yes. 

HIRAM 

And  to  cherish  him  as  fondly  on  several  thousand  a 

year  as  if  he  were  a  poor  actor? 
LUCILLE  (a  little  bit  dazed) 

Why,  yes,  of  course. 
HIRAM 

Then  bless  you,  my  children.     {Passes  Lucille  over 

to  Sheridan) 


ACT  HI]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  155 

SHERIDAN 

When  will  you  speak  to  Mrs.  Perkins? 

HIRAM 

In  a  few  moments.  In  the  meantime  you  two  might 
take  a  walk  around  the  Court  House  Square.  Don't 
come  back  for  half  an  hour. 

LUCILLE 

Very  well,  we  won't.  (They  start  off  happily  for  the 
gate;  Lucille  stops  and  comes  back  to  Hiram)  Are 
we  friends  now?  (Extending  her  hand  and  smiling 
up  into  his  face) 

HIRAM  (drawing  her  toward  him) 

I  hope  so.     (For  an  instant  he  is  tempted  to  tell  her 
the  truth  of  his  identity;    there  is  a  little  pause  and 
then  he  says  in  his  old  inscrutable  manner)     Run 
along  now. 
[Lucille  rejoins  Sheridan  at  the  gate. 

SHERIDAN 

Evans,  you  're  a  mystery,  but  you  're  a  brick. 
[The  lovers  go  to  the  left  down  the  street.    Hiram 
goes  up  to  the  fence  and  leans  against  it,  looking 
after  them. 
HIRAM  (calling  after  them) 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  I  'm  trusting  you  to  play  fair 
and  not  take  French  leave. 

SHERIDAN 

On  my  honor. 

HIRAM 

As  a  Montague? 
SHERIDAN  (shouting  back) 
No,  as  a  Tillottson. 

HIRAM 

That 's  good  enough ! 


156  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

[He  leans  on  the  fence,  contemplating  them,  when 

he  is  aroused  by  the  voice  of  Eugene  Merryfield  in 

the  near  distance. 
EUGENE  (off) 

Mis'  Perkins  .  .  .  Mis'  Perkins  ...  oh,  Mis'  Per 
kins! 

[Portia  enters  from  the  house  and  comes  down  the 

porch  steps,  followed  by  Preston.     Eugene,  hatless 

and  breathless,  comes  running  down  the  road. 
PORTIA 

Is  that  you,  Gene? 
EUGENE  (bolting  into  the  yard  almost  exhausted) 

Oh,  Mis'  Perkins! 
PORTIA  {alarmed) 

What 's  the  matter?     Is  the  office  on  fire? 
EUGENE 

No,  but  it  might  as  well  be. 
PORTIA 

What  do  you  mean? 

[Hiram  strolls  down  and  listens. 
EUGENE 

They  've  smashed  up  the  office. 
PORTIA 

Smashed  the  office? 

EUGENE 

Yes  .  .  .  they  've  thrown  down  the  forms  .  .  .  up 
set  the  case  .  .  .  pied  all  the  type  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
and  played  hell  with  everything ! 
PORTIA    (grimly) 
Who  did  it? 

EUGENE 

Old  Skinner  and  Miss  Faxon  was  the  ringleaders, 


ACT  HI]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  157 

but  there  was   more  'n   twenty  people   helpin*  .  .  . 
reg'lar  mob. 
PORTIA 

Why  did  you  let  them  in? 

EUGENE 

I  did  n't.     I  locked  the  door  when  I  seen  'em  comin', 
but  they  smashed  the  windows  and  came  in  that  way. 
PORTIA  (brokenly) 
My  God! 

PRESTON 

What  did  they  do  it  for? 

EUGENE 

Skinner's  spite  mostly,  but  it 's  been  breedin'  fer  two 
weeks.  Of  course  now  Skinner  stands  to  lose  and 
.  .  .  (With  a  look  and  gesture  toward  Hiram)  and 
him  workin*  at  her  desk  in  the  office  to-day  jest 
brought  it  to  a  head. 

HIRAM   (coolly) 

Oh,  then  the  demonstration  was  in  my  honor. 

EUGENE  (savagely) 

Well,  mostly,  I  guess.  (Turning  to  Portia  again) 
They  threw  me  out.  I  tried  to  find  the  constable, 
but  I  could  n't,  so  I  come  to  tell  you. 

LEWEI/LYN  (off  to  the  left,  shouting  wildly) 

Eugene  .  .  .  !  Mis'  Perkins  .  .  .  !  Oh,  Eu 
gene  .  .  .  !  (He  rushes  dotvn  the  street  from  the 
left,  vaults  the  fence;  murmurs  of  a  crowd  are  heard 
coming  after  him)  Oh,  they  're  comin',  they  're 
comin' ! 

PORTIA 
Who? 

EUGENE 

What  do  you  mean? 


158  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

PRESTON 

Who  's  coming? 

LEWEL.LYN  (struggling  for  breath) 

The  folks  .  .  .  the  crowd  .  .  .  the  ones  that  broke 
into  the  office. 

PORTIA 

What  are  they  coming  here  for? 

[Eugene  goes  up  to  the  fence  and  looks  off  to  the 

left;    the  mob  surges  on. 

EUGENE 

Here  they  come  hellityclip. 

[A  crowd  of  excited  men  and  women,  all  talking  at 
once,  murmuring  and  muttering  vague  threats,  surges 
into  the  yard  through  the  gate  and  over  the  fence. 
A  fringe  of  small  boys  climb  the  fence  for  a  better 
view  of  the  sport.  The  men  are  in  various  stages  of 
costume;  some,  having  evidently  left  their  evening 
smoke  on  the  front  porch  to  join  the  crowd,  are  in 
their  shirt  sleeves  and  hatless.  Most  of  the  women 
have  caught  up  veils,  fascinators,  or  light  shawls  and 
thrown  them  over  their  heads.  As  they  catch  sight 
of  Portia  with  Preston,  Lewellyn,  and  Eugene  on  one 
side  and  Hiram  at  the  other  side  of  the  yard,  they 
shout  "  Here  they  are!  "  "  We  've  found  them  at 
home!  "  etc. 

SKINNER  (in  the  full  exercise  of  his  powers  of  leader 
ship)     Come  on,  folks.    Guess  the  lady  of  the  house 
is  at  home,  and  this  individual  too. 
[He  indicates  Hiram,  who  is  apparently  not  at  all 
perturbed  and  has  dropped  down  on  the  garden  seat 
next  the  hedge. 
The  noise  of  the  party  stops,  and  the  young  people 


ACT  in]  MARY   JANE'S   PA  159 

and   Mrs.    Wilcox   come   arownd   the   side   of   their 

house  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  excitement. 
IVY  WILCOX 

What 's  goin'  on  over  to  Perkins  ? 
PORTIA  (all  her  spirit  up  again) 

What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here  like  this? 
CROWD 

Listen  to  her !  .  .  .  Look  at  her  airs ! 
SKINNER  (stepping  out  from  the  crowd) 

We  're  goin'  to  call  a  halt  to  your  goin's  on,  Mis' 

Perkins. 
PRESTON 

Skinner,  you  are  invading  private  property. 

SKINNER 

Oh,    another    county    heard    from,    neighbors;    the 

democratic  nominee  seems  to  be  hangin'  'round  here 

too. 

{The  crowd  mutters  its  disapproval  of  such  didos. 
PORTIA   (her  wrath  at  white  heat) 

You  old  thief!     So  you've  ruined  my  office?     Well, 

you  '11  pay  for  it,  understand  that. 
SKINNER 

I  never  laid  a  hand  on  it. 

PRESTON 

You  've  incited  these  people  to  riot. 

MISS  FAXON  (aglow  with  virtuous  indignation  as  she 
steps  into  the  limelight  and  addresses  Preston)  We 
ain't  people,  if  you  please,  we  're  a  committee ;  and 
we  're  organized  to  purify  the  morals  of  this  here 
community. 

CROWD  (in  a  moral  frenzy) 

Down  with  vice  in  Gosport!  .  .  .  Down  with  im 
morality!  .  .  .  Purity  forever!  etc. 


160  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

PRESTON  (to  the  crowd) 

You  are  exceeding  your  rights. 

SKINNER  (his  face  wreathed  in  sarcastic  smiles') 

Our    business    ain't    with    the    democratic    nominee, 

though  we  know  he  's  pretty  solid  with  the  "  Clar 

ion." 

[The  crowd  guffaws  at  this  delicate  bon  mot. 

POETIA 

I  want  an  explanation  of  this  outrage. 

[Line  Watkins  in  his  ulster,  his  throat  bandaged  in 

red  flannel,  elbows  his  way  through  the  crowd  to 

Portia. 

LINC  (in  a  very  hoarse  voice) 

What  in  Time  is  this  here  fracas  about? 

SKINNER  (in  the  oratorical  manner  that  was  acquired 
for  the  State  House  at  Indianapolis)  Fer  your  bene 
fit,  Mr.  Watkins  and  Mis'  Perkins  and  any  friends 
of  hern  that  may  be  present,  I  will  state  on  behalf 
of  the  citizens  of  Gosport  that  we  hev  given  Mis' 
Perkins  notice,  by  raidin'  her  printing  office  and  by 
this  here  meetin',  that  she  has  got  to  stop  her  present 
course  of  conduct. 

PORTIA 

What  do  you  mean? 

MISS  FAXON    (with  an  elocutionary  tone  and  gesture 
that  would  do  credit  to  Ivy  Wilcox) 
We  mean  him.     (She  points  to  Hiram  with  out 
stretched  arm) 


You  old  devil!     (He  starts  for  Skinner,  but  several 
men  restrain  him) 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  161 

PORTIA 

Be  quiet,  Line.     (To  Skinner)     Do  you  mean  that  I 
am  not  permitted  by  this  town  to  keep  a  servant? 
SKINNER  (jeeringly) 

Servant?  .  .  .  Servant?  He!  he!  ...  that's 
good.  Why,  you  never  kept  no  servant  till  this  here 
individual  came  along.  If  you  wanted  a  hired  girl, 
they  was  plenty  of  wimmin  folks  to  be  had.  Ain't 
that  so,  neighbors? 
[The  crowd  assents  eagerly. 

MISS    FAXON 

It 's  perfectly  scandalous ! 

SKINNER 

No  siree,  Bob!  That  servant  story  don't 'go  down. 
Besides,  this  man  ain't  no  servant.  He  was  jest  a 
kind  of  a  tramp  when  he  came  to  live  here. 

PRESTON  (staggered) 
What? 

SKINNER  (enjoying  this  phase  of  it  particularly) 
The  democratic  nominee  seems  surprised.  Yes,  sir, 
a  tramp.  We  've  got  a  witness  to  prove  it.  Come 
out  here,  Claud  Whitcomb,  and  face  her  down.  (He 
digs  Claud  out  of  the  crowd,  where  he  has  been  hang 
ing  back)  Tell  what  you  know  about  it,  Claud. 

CLAUD  (rather  shamefaced  at  the  part  he  is  forced  to 
play,  yet  feeling  the  thrill  of  being  an  important  fig 
ure  in  the  affair)  Oh,  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say 
agin  Mis'  Perkins  personally.  I  jest  know  what  I 
seen,  that 's  all. 

CROWD 

Out  with  it!  ...  Tell  what  you  know!  .  .  .  Tell 
your  story !  etc. 


162  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

POETIA 

What  is  it,  Claud? 
CLAUD    (nervously  fingering  his  cap  and  whipstock) 

Oh,  not  so  awful  much  .  .  .  only,  'bout  two  weeks 

ago,  I  sold  you   a  load  of  wood  fer  kitchen  use. 

Beech    and    maple,    seasoned    all    winter,    I    know 

'cause  .  .  . 
SKINNER  (impatiently) 

Never  mind  that. 
CROWD 

Go  on!  ...  Nobody  cares  about  your  wood. 
CLAUD 

Well,  I  was  throwin'  it  in  the  back  yard  from  the 

alley  there    (indicates   down   the   right)   beside  the 

kitchen,    when    I    seen    this    here    feller  (indicates 

Hiram)  rise  up  from  the  back  stoop  and  go  round  to 

the  side  stoop  and  walk  right  in. 
CROWD 

Don't  that  beat  all?  .  .  .  Did  you  ever? 
SKINNER  (nibbing  his  hands) 

And  what  then,  Claud,  what  then? 
CLAUD 

I  could   see  them  talkin'  through  the  window,  till 

Mis'   Perkins    come    and   pulled   down    the    window 

shades. 
MISS  FAXON 

Disgustin',  I  call  it! 
CLAUD 

Jest  as  I  was  through,  I  seen  him  with  a  candle  in  his 

hand,  goin*  past  the  upstairs  window,  on  the  side  of 

the  alley  there.     (He  indicates  the  other  side  of  the 

house) 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  163 

MISS  FAXON  (to  a  woman  friend) 

And  I  nearly  got  her  into  our  Sons  and  Daughters 

of  Freedom. 
CLAUD 

When  I  went  to  git  my  money,  Mis'  Perkins  turned 

pale  as  a  ghost  and  her  hand  shook  so  she  could 

hardly  count  out  the  money.     The  next  I  heard  he 

was  livin'  here  stiddy. 
EUGENE 

That 's  a  nice  story ! 
CLAUD  (defending  his  veracity) 

It 's  a  true  one. 
SKINNER 

Ask  Mis'  Perkins  if  it  ain't. 
LING 

It 's  a  damned  lie ! 
PORTIA 

It  is  perfectly  true. 

{There   is    consternation    among   her   friends   and 

amazement  among  her  enemies. 
SKINNER 

Nice  goin's  on,  eh,  neighbors?     (They  mutter  their 

feelings)     We  '11  give  the  man  in  the  case  a  little 

regulatin'  with  tar  and  feathers  and  a  ride  on  a 

rail,  and  then  see  if  he  is  able  to  do  housework. 

{The  crowd  begins  to  get  savage  and  eager  for  its 

prey;   it  turns  and  glares  at  Hiram,  who  sits  facing 

them  on   the  bench  in  the  attitude  of  an  amused 

spectator. 
PORTIA  (terrified) 

No  .  .  .  no,  you  would  n't  do  that? 

SKINNER 

Won't  we,  though! 


MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

HIRAM  (rising  and  coining  toward  them  with  an  easy, 
contemptuous  smile)  By  all  means,  why  should  n't 
they?  They  are  free-born  Americans  with  a  consti 
tutional  government  and  public  schools.  Therefore, 
when  things  are  a  little  slow,  they  feel  that  they 
must  burn  or  drown  or  kill  someone,  and,  oddly 
enough,  do  it  in  the  name  of  public  morality.  It  is 
a  feature  of  our  national  life  that  has  made  us 
world-famed. 

PORTIA  (in  terror  for  him) 
Don't! 

HIRAM 

I  don't  wish  to  stand  in  the  way  of  these  good  citi 
zens  and  their  traditions.  Their  charming  little 
plan  will  give  pleasure  to  the  many  and  pain  to  the 
few,  and  the  majority  must  rule. 

SKINNER  ( realizing  that  Hiram's  calm  contempt  is  cool 
ing  off  the  crowd)  Listen  to  him,  neighbors,  tryin' 
to  speechify. 

CLAUD  (now  in  the  spirit  of  the  thing  and  not  wishing 
to  waste  the  evening)  Come  on  and  give  him  his 
medicine. 

PORTIA 

Don't!    For  God's  sake,  don't  do  it! 

PRESTON 

You  are  all  liable  to  arrest ! 

SKINNER 

Oh,  you  go  to  hell ! 

[The  crowd  is  half  crazed  with  excitement  now  and 
ready  for  anything.  They  press  toward  Hiram, 
who  stands  at  the  centre  with  his  back  to  them  and 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Portia,  as  they  lay  hands 


ACT  ra]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  165 

on  Hiram,   pushes   them  back  and  puts  her  hand 

on  his  shoulder  as  she  faces  them. 
PORTIA 

Stop !    This  man  is  my  husband! 
CROWD 

What! 

PRESTON 

Portia ! 

EUGENE  and  LINC 
Mis'  Perkins! 

SKINNER 

What's  that? 

[A  dead  silence  follows,  everyone  is  stunned,  Portia's 

friends  most  of  all. 
PRESTON  (horrified) 

Portia,  you  have  n't  married  this  man? 
PORTIA 

Yes  .  .  .  seventeen  years  ago. 
SKINNER  (shaking  with  rage,  points  at  Hiram) 

Is  ...  is  that  Perkins? 
PORTIA 

Yes. 
SKINNER  (beaten) 

Well,  I  'm  damned ! 
MISS  FAXON  (pointing  at  Hiram) 

You  don't  mean  that  he  is  ...  is  ... 
PORTIA  (evenly) 

He  is  Lucille's  and  Mary  Jane's  father.     If  you  will 

come  into  the  house  I  will  show  you  the  certificate. 
MISS  FAXON  (with  head  still  high) 

No,  I  thank  you,  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  'tend  to 

other  people's  business. 


166  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  in 

HIRAM 

Mrs.  Perkins,  I  appreciate  your  heroic  candor.  The 
Gosport  Society  for  Ethical  Culture  might  have 
proven  too  much  for  me. 

CLAUD  (to  a  friend) 

Listen  how  perlite  he  talks  to  her.  I  don't  believe 
he  's  her  husband. 

HIRAM  (turning  to  the  crowd) 

You  will  please  explain  by  what  right  you  invaded 
Mrs.  Perkins'  office,  destroyed  her  fixtures,  and  in 
terfered  with  the  conduct  of  her  business. 
[Each  one  in  the  crowd  looks  at  his  or  her  next-door 
neighbor  and  begins  a  disclaimer.  "  I  did  n't  break 
anything  ";  "  Bill  Tompkins  started  it  ";  "  It  's  Joel 
Skinner's  fault,"  etc.,  are  some  of  the  remarks.  All 
begin  a  quiet  retreat. 

MISS  FAXON  (as  she  goes  out  the  gate) 

Thank  goodness,  I  tried  my  best  to  keep  'em  from 
violence. 

CLAUD  (making  for  the  road) 
I  always  liked  Mis'  Perkins. 

SKINNER  (trying  to  rally  the  crowd) 

Why  look  here,  he  ain't  proved  he  is  Perkins  yit. 
(To  Hiram)  Where  you  been  keepin'  yerself  all 
this  time  if  you  are  Perkins  ?  And  —  and  see  here, 
do  you  know  I  hold  yer  wife's  notes  fer  six  hundred 
dollars  ? 
[The  crowd  stops,  anticipating  more  excitement. 

HIRAM 

We  will  talk  of  that  after  you  defend  the  suit  that 
will  be  brought  against  you  to-morrow. 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  167 

SKINNER 

What   suit? 

HIRAM 

Perkins  versus  Skinner,  for  damages. 
SKINNER  (gulping) 
You  don't  — 

HIRAM 

No  argument,  please;  we  have  plenty  of  witnesses. 
[At  this  the  crowd  takes  fright  and  tries  to  get  away. 

SKINNER   (beaten  and  realizing  that  he  stands  alone, 
turns  and  looks  from  Hiram  to  Portia  in  mute  rage) 
Oh  .  .  .  you  .  .  .  you  .  .  .  Hell  cat! 
[Hiram  promptly  knocks  him  down,  and  he  falls  into 
the  arms  of  the  friends  who  are  nearest  him. 
Star  Skinner  leaps  over  the  hedge  from  the  Wilcox 
yard   and  rushes   to   his   father's   assistance.      The 
friends  hustle  Skinner  away  and  the  guests  go  back 
to  the  party. 

Line,  Eugene,  and  Lewellyn  go  into  the  house  with 
Portia,  leaving  Hiram  and  Preston  alone  in  the  yard 
facing  each  other.  Preston  makes  a  move  to  go. 

HIRAM 

Mr.  Preston,  in  justice  to  Mrs.  Perkins,  I  wish  to 
say  that  this  situation  was  forced  on  her,  in  a  sense. 
I  should  like  to  make  the  amende-honorable  so  far  as 
I  may. 

PRESTON    (sternly) 

It  strikes  me  there  is  very  little  for  you  to  say. 

HIRAM 

Nevertheless  I  shall  ask  your  indulgence  .  .  .  not  to 
make  excuses  for  myself.  I  am  an  absolutely  inex 
cusable  person.  You  know  Portia's  domestic  his- 


168  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

tory.  That 's  enough.  My  arrival  here  three  weeks 
ago  was  an  absolute  surprise  to  her.  She  pitied  my 
semi-destitute  condition.  .  .  .  Oh,  a  very  impersonal 
pity  .  .  .  and  she  offered  me  shelter  on  condition 
that  I  act  as  a  house-servant.  I  surprised  both  her 
and  myself  by  accepting.  I  should  not  have  done  so. 
I  was  short-sighted.  So  was  she.  ( With  earnest 
emphasis)  The  point  is  that  I  have  kept  my  place. 
Even  my  daughters  do  not  know  my  identity.  I 
have  lived  here  in  this  house  as  a  servant  only.  Do 
you  believe  me? 

PEESTON   (regarding  him  searchingly) 
Ye  .  .  .  yes. 

HIEAM 

I  meant  to  stay  only  a  day  or  two.  I  delayed  my 
departure  because  —  (  With  a  look  up  at  the  room 
over  the  kitchen  where  Mary  Jane  is)  Well,  I  don't 
feel  bound  to  give  my  reasons.  (Forcing  himself 
away  from  this  phase  of  the  interview)  I  meant  to 
give  Portia  a  chance  to  adjust  her  life  as  she  wished. 
I  understand  the  attachment  that  has  naturally  and 
very  properly  come  to  exist  between  you.  ...  I 
will  leave  here  at  once  .  .  .  you  can  institute  divorce 
proceedings  in  Portia's  name.  I  have  left  the  money 
to  pay  for  the  suit  with  Mary  Jane. 
[Portia  enters  the  porch  with  Line,  Lewellyn,  and 
Eugene,  who  are  shaking  hands  with  her  and  leaving. 

POETIA 

Good  night,  boys. 

THE  THEEE 

Good  night,  Mis'  Perkins.  (They  go  out  the  gate 
and  down  the  road  together) 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  169 

PRESTON 

Has  Portia  agreed  to  this? 

HIRAM 

I  have  n't  spoken  of  it  to  her. 

[Portia  comes   toward  them.     Hiram  goes  up  the 

stage  and  out  into  the  street,  as  if  to  take  himself 

out  of  the  way  and  also  to  watch  for  Lucille  and 

Sheridan. 

PRESTON  (as  Portia  comes  over  to  him) 

Portia,  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  this  thing? 

PORTIA 

At  first  I  meant  to.  Then  when  the  town  talk 
started,  I  knew  you  would  let  it  interfere  with  your 
fight.  I  wanted  to  see  you  as  good  as  elected  before 
I  told  you. 

PRESTON  (with  bitter  regret) 

My  nomination  .  .  .  my  election  .  .  .  what  was  it 
all  to  be  for?  You  know  why  I  was  striving  to 
justify  your  faith  in  me. 

PORTIA 

Yes,  I  do  ...  and  don't  think  it  has  all  been  for 
nothing.  My  life  here  would  have  been  terribly 
bitter  if  it  had  n't  been  for  your  caring,  Rome. 

PRESTON 

And  did  n't  you  care,  too  ? 

PORTIA 

Yes  .  .  .  and  yet  I  can  see  how  I  mistook  my  heart 
hunger  for  something  deeper.  ...  I  was  misled  by 
my  admiration  for  you,  too,  and  my  desire  for  your 
success. 

PRESTON 

Don't  think  I  forget  all  you  Jve  done  for  me.  My 
ambition  would  n't  have  carried  me  very  far  without 


170  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

the  backing  of  the  "  Clarion  "...  but,  Portia,  I 
always  saw  you  at  the  end  of  everything  I  was  striv 
ing  for  ...  I  wanted  to  make  you  happy. 

PORTIA 

And  so  you  can,  Rome.  Take  up  this  larger  life 
that  is  waiting  for  you  and  live  it  splendidly.  Some 
day  I  '11  hear  you  speak  in  the  State  House,  and 
can't  you  imagine  what  it  will  mean  to  me  to  know 
that  my  faith  in  you  and  my  work  helped  you  to 
your  rightful  place? 

[Her  face  glows  with  pride  in  him  and  honest  affec 
tion.  He  looks  into  her  eyes  and  in  their  frankness 
reads  his  future. 

PKESTON  (taking  her  hands) 

I  '11  try  to  be  big,  Portia.  I  want  to  be  big  and  fine. 
It 's  the  only  way  I  can  show  you  what  you  've  been 
to  me.  (Both  are  moved;  there  is  a  pause;  his  voice 
comes  brokenly)  I  wish  it  could  have  been  different. 
.  .  .  Don't  forget  how  I  Ve  loved  you  .  .  .  don't 
.  .  .  don't  .  .  .  (After  a  long  look  into  her  eyes  he 
drops  her  hands  and  goes  rapidly  up  the  path  and 
out  the  gate;  there  he  comes  upon  Hiram;  the  two 
men  stand  for  an  instant  facing  each  other  m  silence) 
Take  care  of  her  .  .  .  love  her  .  .  .  make  her 
happy  .  .  .  she  's  earned  it. 
[He  goes  out  and  down  the  road  to  the  left. 
Portia,  standing  in  the  yard  as  Preston  left  her, 
turns  and  sees  Hiram,  his  face  turned  to  the  road  and 
his  old  hat  pulled  down  as  on  that  night  three  weeks 
ago  whefn  she  turned  him  out.  The  lonely  figure, 
with  something  of  careless  grace  in  it,  is  silhouetted 
against  the  moonlight,  and  her  gate  is  closed  between 
them.  She  goes  up  to  the  gate  and  opens  it. 


ACT  in]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  171 

PORTIA 

Come  in,  Hiram. 
HIRAM  (coming  to  the  gate,  but  keeping  outside) 

It  was  fine  of  you  to  save  my  feelings  before  Preston, 

for  at  last  I  can  feel. 
PORTIA 

I  spoke  for  myself,  not  for  you.     Come  in. 
HIRAM 

Three  weeks  ago  you  offered  me  a  refuge   and  I 

accepted  it.     I  am  not  asking  now  .  .  .  and,  Portia, 

I  could  n't  accept  it  again. 
PORTIA 

It  is  I  who  am  asking.     Please  come.      (He  enters 

the  gate,  and  in  silence  they  walk  to  the  porch  steps; 

both  are   thinking  deeply  and  speech  is  not  easy; 

Portia  seats  herself  on  the  steps  and  Hiram  stands 

by  the  porch  pillar)     Don't  leave  me,  Hiram,  I  want 

you  ...  I  need  you. 

HIRAM 

What  are  you  saying? 

PORTIA  (her  eyes  seeming  to  be  searching  the  past) 
Hiram,  we  began  our  life  together  all  wrong.     We 
were  too  young  to  understand  life  or  each  other,  and 
the  narrowness  and  monotony  of  our  lives  in  those 
early  years  warped  us. 

HIRAM 

You  are  generous. 

PORTIA 

No,  I  remember  that  you  were  selfish,  indifferent,  and 
lazy ;  that  you  lacked  feeling  and  affection ;  and 
that  I  was  fretful,  ignorant,  and  antagonistic.  And 
I  remember,  too,  that  I  was  n't  interested  in  you 


172  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  m 

after  the  children  came.  I  can  see  that  you  were 
lonely,  and  I  've  learned  to  know  that  feeling  myself. 

HIRAM  (huskily) 
Go  on. 

PORTIA 

You  were  right  when  you  said  your  absence  had  de 
veloped  me.  .  »  .  I  know  that,  and  your  experiences 
have  developed  you.  We  have  both  grown  in  these 
last  ten  years.  I  realized  it  all  in  a  flash  the  moment 
those  people  attacked  you  to-night  .  .  .  when  they 
laid  hands  on  you  .  .  . 

HIRAM 

Compassion  .  .  .  womanly  pity. 
PORTIA 

It  was  more  than  that.    I  realized  that  you  were  my 

own,  and  flesh  of  my  flesh  ...  as  the  children  are. 

...  I  knew  that  we  were  joined  together,  and  that 

nothing  you  have  done  or  that  those  wretches  might 

do  could  really  put  us  asunder. 
HIRAM  (deeply  moved) 

Portia ! 

PORTIA 

And  the  children,  Hiram. 
HIRAM 

The  children  were  nothing  to  me  until  — 
PORTIA 

Until  now.      But  I  've  seen  the  father  in  you  stir. 

I  know  that  you  love  Girlie,  and  I  've  seen  that  you 

fear  for  Lucille. 
HIRAM    (intoxicated) 

Go  on. 


ACT  m]  MARY    JANE'S    PA  173 

PORTIA  (looking  up  at  him  tenderly) 

It 's  your  awakening  and  mine,  Hiram.     It  is  n't  all 
duty  ...  it 's  my  happiness  I  'm  asking  you  for. 

HIRAM  (haltingly,  as  if  his  power  of  expression,  once 
so  quick  to  respond  to  his  thought,  was  now  quite 
submerged  in  his  emotion)  It  all  means  so  much  to 
me,  Portia,  that  I  shall  take  you  at  your  word.  I 
feel  the  strength  of  the  universe  flowing  into  my 
brain  and  heart.  I  'm  in  love  with  you  and  the 
children,  with  work,  with  the  world,  with  myself,  with 
God.  Can  you  believe  me,  dear? 
[She  holds  out  her  hand  to  him;  he  takes  it  and  sits 
beside  her. 

PORTIA  (her  face  glowing) 
Yes,  Hiram. 

[Mary  Jane  in  her  nightgown  appears  at  the  back 
bedroom  window. 

MARY  JANE  (calling) 
Mumsey ! 

PORTIA 

Yes. 

MARY  JANE 

Mumsey,  can't  I  have  a  party  too? 
PORTIA 

Yes,  dear,  to-morrow. 
HIRAM  (calling  up  to  her) 

And  who  do  you  think  has  been  invited? 

MARY  JANE 

Who? 

HIRAM 

Dippy  Doldub. 

[Mary  Jane  leans  out  the  window  sill  laughing  and 

waving  her  hand  down  to  them.     Down  the  road  in 


174  MARY    JANE'S    PA  [ACT  ra 

the  moonlight  come  Sheridan  and  Lucille,  absorbed 
m  each  other  and  unconscious  of  all  the  rest  of  the 
world.  They  enter  the  gate,  and  as  it  clicks,  Hiram 
points  them,  out  to  Portia  and  smilingly  explains  the 
situation  as  the  curtain  descends. 

CUETAIN 


MAY          1989    DATE  DUE 


HIGHSMITH    45-  102  PRIN  TED   IN   U  .S.  A. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA  001  260183  7 


PS3509  L542M3  1920 
Ellis,  Edith. 
Mary  Jane ' s  pa 


YN.IY.5P&ITY  OF  CA.,  RIVE 


3  1210  00712  9677 


